


By your eyes I can tell

by Stylinspirit



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 18 y/o Louis, AU, Anal, Bottom Louis, Daddy Harry, Daddy Kink, LOUIS IS THE BOTTOM, M/M, Masturbation, Neurological Disorders, Older Harry, SO, Sorry About It, Suicidal Thoughts, Top Harry, Tourette's Syndrome, Use of the word faggot, and other slurs, this fic is a fluffy smut idk, ts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-06 09:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3129002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stylinspirit/pseuds/Stylinspirit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Is it alright if I do it?" Harry asks, breaking the silence with his low velvet voice.</p><p>"Do what?" Louis picks at his nail, then at a loose thread in the seam of his trousers. "Fuck! God, shit don't damn it!"</p><p>"That." Says Harry. "Can I yell too?" Louis cocks his eyebrow at the giant boy sitting next to him in the sand at the beach with no shirt on.</p><p>"You do understand that I'm not doing it on purpose-"</p><p>"Yes, yes I know that. Just. Please?" Harry smiles with his mouth scrunched up and nostrils flared in a way that has Louis thinking of a frog.</p><p>He snorts out loud, cheeks flushing.</p><p>"Go for it." Is his final answer, Meredith.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want to go ahead and state that this fic is actually important to me. There is a reason that Louis has Tourette's in this story. If it makes you uncomfortable, please, by all means, don't read it. I did a lot of research and spent a lot of time writing this and developing the characters, and the point is to show that people with Tourette's and similar syndromes are NORMAL, and can have sex if they fucking want to.
> 
>  
> 
> THIS FIC IS NOT FINISHED!!  
> I wanted to get the first chapter out so I could see if people would actually respond to it and want to read it! Which you guys have! This fic will be roughly 10 chapters or so! Thank you for reading. Much love.

****

The tic's had begun around age seven.

Louis had woken rather pleasantly that day, instead of his mum jumping on his bed and giving him the tickle monster, he'd simply opened his eyes to the sound of his Teen Titans alarm clock. He felt like a proper grown up. A grown up in footie pajamas, but a grown up no less.

It was a Monday, a school day, and he'd wanted nothing more than to stay in his warm bed and drift back into dreams of battling ninjas and cartoon sunflowers. However, the smell of bacon and eggs cooking downstairs enticed his tummy to start into a low rumble. He'd secretly hoped that his mum had made extra, because despite being small for his age, Louis was a vacuum cleaner when it came to food.

He'd just thrown his feet over side of the bed when he felt a very faint electric current shoot up one side of his body. It surprised him, to say the least, and he gave a slight gasp.

He was given almost no time to recover before his face began to move on its own, uncontrollably. He didn't anticipate the sounds that came out of his mouth after, but out they came. It was a jumble of confused stuttered words, his tongue clucking against the roof of his mouth a few times.

"What the-bloody-nnn- fff, mum!" He whispered to himself, shaking his head.

He almost wanted to laugh, he knew how comical he must have looked, but just as it had happened once, it happened a second time.

This go round, it was a lot less humorous and a lot more terrifying. He felt as though his facial muscles and voice weren't his own as he made noises and expressions.

He'd done it at least twelve more times as he flew down the stairs and nearly knocked his mum over who was standing near the stove, flipping pancakes.

At first, she'd scolded him, telling him to bugger off before he lost a few sausage rolls on his plate.

He'd started crying then, hiccuping and twitching, smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth and making an overdrawn "nah" noise.

She hadn't understood it at all.

So she took him to the hospital.

~*~

They'd explained a lot of big words that he had no chance in understanding while he was perched on the crunchy hospital bed in his Spider-Man pajamas, making stupid faces and sounds that he wished he could stop.

The word 'Tourette's was thrown around a lot, and whoever that was, Louis hated him. He hated that stupid guy called Tourette's because he'd done this to Louis. He had probably snuck into his stupid room and injected him with some kind of potion that made him weird. How could he ever go to school now? How could he face his friends?! They would laugh in his face!

"Louis, baby." His mum spoke to him softly once the doctor in his white lab coat had left the room.

"Look at me, love." She instructed, and he tried his hardest to stay still. He attempted to hold his breath as she spoke to him, so that his face wouldn't be so idiotic. It didn't work at all. He'd ended up letting all the air out of his cheeks suddenly in a series of twitches, spitting some saliva on his mums face.

"Mummy I'm so-nnna na! I'm-mmmma so sorry, nnn." He apologized fervently, reaching out a hand to wipe at her skin. She retrieved a paper towel from the doctors desk and cleaned herself, taking a deep, shuddery breath as she began to speak.

"Baby, you don't have to worry about apologizing. Something's happened to you, and we don't know why, but-" she put her hands on his thighs and took another shaky breath. "We're going to get you through this."

That night, he cried himself to sleep.

And that was that.

He went on in his life with twitches and those dumb noises that followed his mouth and face no matter where he went. He took loads of pills each day in hopes that they'd make him better, but to no avail.

He'd even developed new tendencies, taking to touching almost everything that he passed by at least five times, including people. Even his tics had to be in fives.

He'd flap his wrist and snap his fingers, scrunch his eyebrows and click his tongue. He would uncontrollably blink and clap his hands. Sometimes he would repeat others words or gestures. And that was the mild side of it.

On bad days, Louis would become a writhing mess on the floor. He would cry and scream out, feeling like a prisoner in his own body. He'd hurt himself on more than one occasion, dislocating his shoulder and breaking his pinkie finger during a particularly hard session at age eight.

He was a freak.

~*~

As he grew, the teasing at school advanced with him. He'd earned the nickname "Twitch", and kids stayed completely away from him in fear of catching the "disease", as they called it.

"Hey twitchy, try and talk!"

"Where'ya goin twitch twitch, back under your bridge?"

"Retard!"

It was a constant uphill battle that he was always losing, every single second of his life.

He'd been officially diagnosed at age twelve with full-blown Coprolalia, Sensory Processing Disorder and Obsessive Compulsive disorder.

~*~

He had made only one friend whom had stuck with him over the years.

Zayn Malik.

Louis had met him in 4th year, amidst the hellish torture of older students and the stress to get through schoolwork.

Zayn had been innocently curious about his Tourette's, and asked him many questions, not scoffing or becoming annoyed when Louis stopped in between talking to obnoxiously yell and spasm.

They'd discovered that they were both very into power rangers as they spoke with one another, the conversation becoming easier and easier with every new topic.

With the declaration that they were now the best of best friends, Zayn fist bumped him, whisper-yelling,

"Go go power rangers!" When their knuckles connected.

Louis is eighteen, now, and in his last semester of college.

He manages to skip by with average grades, despite multiple remedial classes and having to be put in a separate room for testing as not to disturb the other students.

He isn't stupid, by any means. He isn't. He's just... Different.

"Hey mate." A hand claps him on the back twice, and Louis nearly jumps out of his skin. He violently flips around and the person gives a loud laugh.

Once Louis catches sight of the familiar black quiff and leather jacket combination, he breathes easier and grabs for his face.

Zayn immediately lowers his head once Louis' hands reach out, tapping his cheek five times over and giving his forehead five kisses for good measure.

They've been through this too many times to count, and Zayn wouldn't have it any other way, honestly.

"How are you, babes?" Inquires the dark haired boy once Louis' finished his ritual, sliding into the seat at the lunch table where his friend sits alone.

"I'm," Louis' face scrunches up and he fights to control his tongue, "like shit." he finishes after a few moments, and Zayn looks sympathetic, leaning his head on Louis' shoulder.

Louis has most of his maths homework spread out on the table, amidst his sandwich and juice carton, and to say that its less than halfway finished would be an understatement. The only things on the page are jerky, scribbled drawings and angsty song lyrics.

In the 'your name' portion of the page, Louis has written 'I fucking hate maths', which makes Zayn snort.

"It's not that bad. You need me to help you again?" He asks, hoping to get a positive response.

"I suppose. Yeah _. Fucking bollocks! Wanker! Faggot._ " Zayn looks into Louis' face fondly, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek.

"I'll come over after school, kit. Gotta get to English. Love you!" He gathers his backpack and slings it over one shoulder, walking off.

"Love you too, prat!" Calls Louis.

He gets the finger in return.

~*~

As it turns out, doing maths homework after school consists of stuffing a towel under Louis' bedroom door and covering the vent on the ground with a blanket to share a joint out of the window.

Being high is Louis' favorite. He wishes that weed was legalized, because when he's smoking, he barely has any tics at all.

He only feels pleasantly at ease as his nerves are calmed one by one due to the thick smoke coursing through his body.

They have a box of combination pizza and three nearly empty bags of mini Reece's peanut butter cups between them as they flick the cherry of the joint out out of the second story window. Thankfully, Louis lives in the middle of nowhere. There're no neighbors to complain of the smell.

He has many thoughts racing around his head at once at the moment, but there's one thing in particular that he can't seem to stop thinking on. He thinks that maybe, probably, he's finally going to tell Zayn.

"I'm-" he begins lazily, feeling manic giggles bubble up into his throat as he glances over at the other, who has his head laid against the window, mouth hanging ajar.

"Zayn I like-" he laughs a bit "I like cock."

"You. Mate you what?" Zayn drawls, lips stretching into a small smile, as though he wants to take the piss.

"I _like_ ," Louis closes his eyes. "Big-" he rolls his head one way on the wall "fuckin-nng," he gives a dramatic pause, "cock."

After a few long moments, Zayn speaks.

"What, you mean like-" he gulps, as if he's about to say the most serious thing in the world. "roosters?"

They simply lose it then, laughing as they press themselves against the cool glass of the window, breath fogging and unfogging it with every chortle.

"You're a f-fucking," he sighs once they catch their oxygen "you're an idiot, Zayn."

"I already knew you fancied blokes, mate." Murmurs Zayn coolly, taking a swig of the coke can in his lap.

"How'd you know that?" He answers, raising the neglected joint to his lips and taking a deep hit. He cant help but go a little cross-eyed as he stares at the cherry, thinking of just how much it looks like a volcano. Little weed volcano. Krakatoke-a.

"I see th'way you lookat some guys Lou," Zayn shifts on the bed, causing a bag of candy to slide beneath the crack, disappearing forever into the dark abysmal horror that's underneath Louis' bed.

"S'not weird or anything, I just. I think I should set you up, you know?"

Louis begins to feel cold sweat break out around his temples, his hands go clammy. He's terrified of relationships, of people in general, really.

"I don't know I'm not, Zayn I can't. Can't even fuckin talk right when m'not... Nobody would... Like me."

"You're mad. Have you seen yourself?" Zayn smiles, then the weight of his body on the bed is removed and he's dashing out of the room and into the hallway.

"We had the crack in'the door covered for a fuckin reason!" Louis yells out, laughing. It doesn't really matter honestly. His mum and sisters aren't home from school and work, and his stepfather would probably blaze it with them, given the chance.

Zayn returns momentarily, holding something behind his back. He jumps on the bed before Louis can ask and wraps his arms around the smaller boy. It takes a moment for Louis to realize what's happening, but, when Zayn nudges him and tells him to look ahead, he's staring at himself.

Zayn is holding a small, purple, heart shaped mirror in front of his face.

"Look." He whispers, resting his chin in the space between Louis' chin and neck.

"I'm gross." Deadpans Louis, taking in his familiar appearance. He never looks for too long into a mirror usually, only does what he absolutely has to with his unruly hair in the mornings before school as quickly as possible. He's afraid he'll see himself tic, and he certainly doesn't want that.

"No," Zayn says sternly "No, you're gorgeous. Give us a smile." He prods at Louis' side gently with his elbow and Louis manages a halfhearted grin before his facial features screw up and he lets out a string of noises.

Fuck Tourette's, he decides. Fuck it to hell.

~*~

It's a few days later in the hallway at school when the metaphorical shit hits the hypothetical fan. Or maybe Louis' just being dramatic. Whatever.

"Lou." Zayn inquires once they catch up with one another, slowing his stride and matching Louis' pace, slinging an arm around his shoulder. Louis kisses Zayn's cheek five times over and settles into his side easily, both arms around his slender waist, fingers interlocked. It's oddly intimate, but it's them, and they've always been this way, so.

"I've got a question." Says Zayn, and Louis hums in response, looking up at him as they make their way down the hall. A few people greet Zayn in passing, bumping his shoulder or giving him a smile. Louis wonders if he's invisible or something.

"So, Niall." Louis grins at the mention of the bright, bubbly Irish freshman, with his loud laugh and expressive eyes. Louis likes him. "Niall is having this thing. He's singing down at that pub on Becklow? The Screaming Slag?" Truth is, Louis' never heard of such a place, but he nods anyway.

"So he's singing there with a few of his mates and, like, maybe you'd wanna come, because you love me and also because I need moral support." He looks down at Louis hopefully, with those wide brown puppy dog eyes and that goofy sideways grin, and who is Louis to say no, honestly.

"Perrie will be there, won't she? Arse! Fucking hello! Shit." Is his reply. He keeps his tone light, though, and smirks up at Zayn when he feels him shrug.

"She -" he pauses to tic "she will! Alright mate, fine, I'll go, but-" another tic "but only because-"

"Yes! Fuck, thank you, god."

~*~

Preparing for a night out, Louis gathers, is a lot harder than it looks.

" _Bloody cocking fuck! Balls! Shit!_ " He tics violently, rummaging through his closet. He's becoming increasingly frustrated with his clothing, tearing off outfit after outfit after deeming them too tight, too loose, too feminine. The list goes on.

He's about to say fuck it all and go naked when his phone rings from its spot on the bed, Zayn's ringtone.

He scrambles to it, tripping over a stray Tom thats long since lost its match.

"Hello? Fuck, what-" he puts the phone to his ear and it rings loudly again. "Oh buggering fucking-" he slides the unlock bar and tries it a second time. He hates himself, he really does.

"Hello?" He repeats, scrubbing a hand over his face as though he could catch the tics. He doesn't, naturally, and he's glad nobody is in the room because he's making a proper arse of himself.

"Hey babes, you ready?" Zayn sounds excited. Louis is happy for him, because he's been crushing on Perrie for nearly a year now, trying to find an excuse to get her alone.

"Well um-" He glances at the Mount Rushmore of clothing he has piled in front of his closet, then down at his own nearly naked self. "Not exactly?" He breathes out, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Well get that way! I'll be over in five minutes, Lou. Love you."

"Yeah, yeah shit okay."

He hangs up with a new determination, and ten minutes later he's standing in front of the mirror in semi-presentable clothing.

He's chosen bright red skinny jeans and a large knitted jumper. The jumper is so big that it hangs off his shoulders and over his hands a little, but he can't be arsed. He pairs it with his black vans, no socks of course, (He hates socks. Unnecessary prisons of the feet) and finishes that off by smoothing his fringe. His hair is starting to get long, now, he notices, flipping slightly and curling underneath his ear. He'll have to tell his mum to make an appointment.

"Hey babe I'm- oh," Louis flips around from the mirror and Zayn whistles from the doorway, twirling his finger in the air to get Louis to spin, which he does. He feels sexy, so.

"Fuck, mate you look hot!" Zayn envelops Louis in a hug then, towering over him. They stay like that for a minute, swaying from side to side.

Louis loves the comforting smell of Zayn, loves being in his familiar arms. It's nice to feel needed.

"We gotta go." Zayn murmurs into Louis' hair after a moment, and Louis lets out a soft whine.

"We need to socialize like normal people Lou, cmon." Zayn chuckles, snaking his arm around Louis' waist.

It's only when they're halfway across town that Louis realizes he's forgotten his phone on the bed.

~*~

The outside of the pub looks intimidating, and Louis isn't going in.

"You're going in." Zayn says sternly, furrowing his eyebrows.

"But look at the sign, Zayn!" Louis gestures up to the giant green neon lady that's perched on the brick building, opening and closing her legs. "Fucking hell! God damn willy wanker, fuck," he opens and closes his hands, flexing his fingers and flicking his wrist. He hinges and unhinges his jaw as well, feeling it pop each time. He knows this one will hurt later.

"Stop acting like a bloody baby and just-"

"I bet I'm not even old enough. I'm not legal and-"

"Louis William Tomlinson so help me god I will drag you in by your fucking hair." Louis skips mentioning that he has a thing for his hair being pulled.

"Well you never told me It was a fucking-" he tics "you never said it was a titty bar, Zayn!"

Zayn only rolls his eyes and grabs Louis' hand, leading him to the door. Once they get inside, he's met with a rush of cold air and the stale, sour smell of alcohol.

It's dark in the pub, hazy with cigarette smoke. It's also packed, people sitting at tables with varieties of drinks, people crowded around a small pool bar, playing and laughing loudly. The one thing he doesn't see, though, is naked women.

"It's not a titty bar?" He whisper-yells to Zayn, who laughs and shakes his head.

"Not a titty bar, babe. Cmon, let's go find Niall and Pez."

He's drug away then, Zayn leading him. He's thankful for it being dark, because people can't see his face very well. Can't see him tic.

After a few minutes of maneuvering through the crowd, they arrive at a small stage setup. Niall is standing at the mic, guitar slung over one shoulder. He's tuning it, judging by the his light brows being furrowed in concentration. His tongue sticks out the side of his mouth a bit as he plucks the strings, and Louis thinks he looks like a life-sized marshmallow peep.

"There's Perrie." Zayn mumbles, wringing his hands nervously. She's standing near the edge of the stage, sipping something in a plastic cup. She looks gorgeous, Louis has to admit. She has her light purple hair down in tumbling curls that reach the middle of her back, lips painted bright red.

"Let's get it over with, then." Zayn pushes his hair back and straightens his leather jacket, making his way to her, and Louis follows him. She notices them before they reach her, and excitedly shuffles to them as fast as her heels will allow.

"Hi! Zayn, um. Hey. Lovely to see you," she pulls him in for a side hug and Louis smirks when she plants a kiss on his cheek.

"You! Oh I know you-" she taps Louis' nose with her black lacquered fingernail, and he can't help himself. She's there, and she's touched him. The barrier has been broken. Before he can even think about it, he's tapping her nose right back, five times. Her eyes go a little cross, and she gives a short laugh, but she doesn't push him away.

"You're... You're in my remedial biology course in college." She finishes as Louis pulls his hand away. Zayn looks like he could kill Louis right now, and Louis can't really say he'd mind being dead at the moment.

'Drown me, Zayn, let me go peacefully.' He thinks, hoping Zayn will get his telepathic message.

"Yeah, names Louis. Fucking hello! Slag." He smiles at her apologetically, and she returns the favor, looking at Zayn with high eyebrows for an answer. Maybe it's not a disaster.

It probably is.

"They're about to come on stage," Perrie leads them away, talking to Zayn in a high pitched voice and occasionally giggling. They get seats at a table closest that they can, and Zayn ends up ordering a rum and coke. They bring it to him without I.D'ing. What a surprise.

"How're we doin t'night?" Comes a thick, loud Irish accent from the loudspeaker, and Louis' head snaps up.

There are a few whoops and yells, and Niall raises his red solo cup on stage, a few drops of amber liquid sloshing over the sides. He just laughs.

"Now, me n' th'boys wanna play a special song set fer you lot, hope you enjoy s'much as we do! C'mon lads!"

Louis is pretty sure that this is the point where his entire brain stopped functioning.

Two boys-- men, emerge from behind the filmy curtain of the stage. One is stout and bulky, with closely cropped hair and a few days worth of scruff grazing his neck. He would look intimidating if not for a goofy smile placed on his lips. Louis thinks he's a puppy, maybe, disguised as a human.

The other, however, is a fucking vision of other-worldly beauty. It's strange for Louis, to be so struck so quickly. It quite literally takes his breath away to look.

The man, is tall. Extremely tall. Not like, awkward knobby knee'd baby giraffe tall either. Proper tall.

He has his dark hair pulled up into a high bun, which, okay, his hair is long enough to put into a bun. His eyebrows are pulled together as he approaches the microphone, pretty pink lips parting. They've probably started to sing already, but Louis can't think. All he can do is stare.

He's dressed in tight black jeans and a loose, sheer button down that he's tucked in, a pair of brown suede boots on his feet. He looks like a fucking Burberry model.

"Who is that? Hot. Fucking sexual." He finds himself leaning over to who he thinks is Zayn, but he leans the other way whilst trapped in his reverie, directing his question to Perrie.

"Which one?" She answers, and he points, which isn't polite, but Louis doesn't think he cares all that much.

"Oh him, that's Harry Styles. He's in uni, I think. A right charmer. Comes here on weekends with Niall, mostly. It's the first time I'm seein the other bloke though."

'Harry', Louis thinks. Harry Styles with hair long enough to put into an elastic. Harry Styles, that cannot be his real name.

"Harry... Styles. Hair styles!" Louis says stupidly, giving a snort. He goes to cover his mouth but realizes the music is too loud and rests easy.

He focuses on the singing, then, and boy. Boy oh boy.

Hair Styles' voice is low, deep and grating. They're covering something by the Arctic Monkeys, and every note that comes out of his pretty mouth is like melting chocolate, or honey or something. Louis' never been good with personification.

From the way he's gripping the mic with both hands, Louis can see that he's heavily tattooed on one muscley, toned arm. Fuck. He thinks he sees hints of black ink underneath the sheer of his shirt as well, due to the stage lights, but he can't be sure. He's too far away, if he could just, like, get closer, or-

"Lou, what the fuck are you gawping at, mate?" Zayns' voice is low in his ear, it makes him jump. Tic.

"Fuck, nothing. I'm. Watching. Watching the thing, is all." Zayn makes a high sound in the back of his throat and smiles like the Cheshire Cat.

Bloody menace.

~*~

 

By the end of the set, Zayn has Perrie in his lap, and he's certainly paying no attention to the music. Neither is Perrie for that matter.

The thing is, it's torture. It's torture watching a beautiful stranger sing beautiful songs with his beautiful voice. Louis keeps looking at Harry's mouth, the way it forms around words and he can't help but wonder how that mouth would feel.

He has his chin in his hand, and if he's drooling, so what. He only realizes that they've finished once Hair Styles and Niall hop off the stage and heads towards their table.

Maybe he shouldn't, but he starts to inwardly panic.

His face flushes and he flips around, covering his head with a cupped hand. He's tic'ing furiously, now, cursing himself. Maybe Hair Styles noticed him staring, maybe he's coming over to confront him about being such a fucking creepy weird-

"Hey love, this seat taken here?" A deep, posh voice fills his ears. Even over the loud bass of a 'Boom, Clap' remix, Louis can hear that voice as if it were the only sound in the room. He takes a deep breath and turns to speak, but he's saved. By who? Zayn, of course. Lovely, wonderful, amazing Zayn who will most definitely be getting a foot rub later. Perhaps a back massage.

"Harry! Hey, mate, it's been way too long. Hey, Ni."

"Oh fuck, Z, I didn't even recognize you right there! How've you been, then?"

They launch into a little banter, settling comfortably at the table, and Louis finds himself again gazing at Harry. He's even more beautiful up close. He looks like a painting. Like one of those angels on the ceiling of the Roman Cathedral.

"And this is Louis," says Zayn suddenly, reaching over to pat him on the back. Louis wants to shrink into a tiny ball of anxiety and bury himself in the dirt.

"Hi. I'm a parrot! Fuck." He says, flashing a smile and trying his hardest not to cry.

"Hey, Louis. M'Harry." A giant, ring clad hand is extended, and Louis loses his breath for a moment. What is he supposed to do with his hand, other than kiss it? Suck on his fingers?

Once Louis snaps out of his own head enough to actually shake Hair Styles' hand, totally not noticing how it completely swallows his own, he realizes that, yes, the barrier has been broken. He must touch.

Harry is sitting rather close, their shoulders are touching, so the obvious choice is to tug his earlobe. His hand reaches out, and Harrys' eyebrows furrow into a look of probably disgust and confusion. Louis doesn't know. All he knows, is that he gets Harry's earlobe between his thumb and forefinger and tugs lightly five times. His face is burning unbearably hot by the time he's finished.

"Uhm, well." Is the response Louis gets. He realizes that Niall and Zayn have immersed themselves into animated conversation, and Perrie is a deadweight on Zayn's' shoulder. Fuck. Nowhere to turn, now.

There's a large grin on Hair Styles' face, and all Louis can see is perfect white teeth and deeply-set dimples.

"Sorry," Louis yells over the music casually, shrugging his shoulders. He's internally screaming. "You have really nice lobes. Bitch!"

Nice lobes. Nice fucking lobes. Louis wants to kill himself. He wants to throw himself in front of a semi. Nice lobes!

Zayn starts cackling at something Niall says and Louis feels trapped. He has no choice but to tic, trying to hide his face from Hair Styles.

"Yours are nice as well," he yells back with a large smile "bitch." He adds calmly, with a shrug.

Before Louis even knows what's happening, Harry reaches over and brushes his hair over his ear. He swears he can hear blood rushing into his face as Harry grabs his earlobe, the cold metal of his rings pressing against the shell. He rubs his calloused thumb in small, soft circles that have Louis near tears before pulling his hand away completely. His ear is scorching hot where it's been touched and he wills himself not to get fucking hard, please don't get hard for gods sake.

"D'you wanna go play pool?" Yells Harry, and, no. Louis thinks of the bright bar lights above the pool table and shudders. He also shifts awkwardly in his seat and adjusts himself. Fuck teenage hormones.

When he doesn't answer, Harry cocks his head to the side and leans his head on his hand. Up close, Louis can clearly make out his intricate tattoos. There's a small black cross inked between the slot of his thumb and pointer finger, an anchor on his wrist. From the dip of his loose, sheer black shirt, Louis can also see the peaks of two black swallows just below his collarbones.

"Wanna get out of here?" Harry leans forward to his ear and murmurs, and maybe Louis is feeling a bit high on the loud music and sweaty bodies, because all he does is nod his head.

~*~

Harry is fucking weird.

His car looks like he's just bought it, sleek and black. Inside it smells like a dealership.

There are tiny bottles of germ-x in the spaces underneath the handles on each door, and an aerosol can of disinfectant sits at Louis' feet on the floorboards.

"Are you a germo- fuck me, a germophobe?" He questions boldly once they've both buckled. Harry throws his head back and laughs as he turns the key in the ignition. What is Louis doing? Why is he in a car with someone he's just met?

"So I like to be clean, sue me." Harry says smoothly with a smile in his voice, looking over his shoulder to back out of the parking lot. Louis likes that logic. He also likes Harry's arm flung across his seat.

"So-" He turns his head to tic and hides his twitching hand between the car door and seat.

"So where the hell are we going?"

"How's the beach sound?" Oh. Can people hide bodies on the beach? Harry probably isn't a serial killer, but, you never know. Louis thinks maybe he needs to take a risk for once in his life.

"Lovely, actually."

~*~

The ride there is comfortable and warm. There's some hippie-indie rock music playing softly over the radio in the background, and Harry keeps glancing over at Louis in the passengers seat, making conversation.

Louis learns that Harry is twenty four, has a sister named Gemma, and hails from Holmes Chapel in Cheshire. He also learns that Harry has a gentle giant complex, with his slow voice and kind, sparkling green eyes. He's sort of beautiful, and not just on the outside.

They arrive at half ten. The beach is vacant, illuminated by the moon, fine white sand cascading over their shoes as they walk towards the water. Louis can feel his stomach twisting up in an unpleasant way, though, can feel that surge of electricity that's all too familiar, and he squeezes his eyes shut, begging his body not to betray him. He feels that sudden urge, that distant scratching in his muscles and blood as if he has to sneeze.

It's inevitable, is what it is. It was bound to happen some time during the night, but the gravity of the situation has just caught up with Louis' brain, the fact that he's alone with a gorgeous stranger, and he lets go completely.

"Fuck! Cock fucking bitch god damn it!" He yells, then slaps his hand over his mouth. He dares to look over to Harry, who has stopped walking and is looking back at the display with concern but also slight, hidden amusement. He's so gorgeous.

"I'm sorry! Fuck, I'm sorry. Lions! I'm from the wizard of Oz I'm Dorothy!" Louis fervently apologizes, tic'ing like mad.

"What're you sorry for?" Harry is smiling dopily now, as though he's not sure if he can laugh.

"I have... I have Tourette's? It's a neurological disorder and like- FUCK! Bitching whoring fuck! Fuck off would you I fucking hate you!"

Harry doesn't reply to that, just gives a small guarded chuckle and turns around to continue walking towards the tide. Louis follows cautiously, yelling all the way.

This guy is weird, and Louis likes him, and he sort of just wants to crawl into the ocean to be eaten by sharks.

Harry plops down just near the water and removes his boots, throwing them absently into the sand behind him. He takes off his shirt, too, and Louis has to avert his eyes for a moment to avoid another disaster.

"Cmere." Harry calls, patting the sand next to him.

Louis takes off his vans and places them safely out of reach of water, sitting down cross legged. The seat of his jeans are immediately soaked, but he can't bring himself to care.

Harry has taken the elastic out of his hair and shaken it free, revealing loose, glossy brown curls that fall to his shoulders. Louis wants to tangle his fingers in them.

"Is it alright if I do it?" Harry asks, breaking the silence with his low velvet voice.

"Do what?" Louis picks at his nail, then at a loose thread in the seam of his trousers. "Fuck! God, shit don't damn it!" He then proceeds a clapping session.

"That." Says Harry. "Can I yell too?" Louis cocks his eyebrow at the giant boy sitting next to him in the sand at the beach with no shirt on.

"You do understand that I'm not doing it on purpose-"

"Yes, yes I know that. Just. Please?" Harry smiles with his mouth scrunched up and nostrils flared in a way that has Louis thinking of a frog.

He snorts out loud, cheeks flushing.

"Go for it." Is his final answer, Meredith.

Harry gazes up at the moon for a second, then glances back to the water.

Louis is taken by surprise when he finally does scream, loud and unabashed.

"FUCKING GOD DAMN PRICK!" He roars, eyes squeezed shut. The yelling has set Louis' nerves off, and he too is screaming and snapping his head from side to side, shrugging his shoulders.

"Shit! Holy fucking god you scared me you're loud fuck!"

"Life fucking sucks!" Shouts Harry, giving an exasperated screech. He picks up some sand and throws it into the water angrily.

"Fuck everyone, fuck every single god damn fucking person who's ever been a mother fucking god damn asshole to me because I don't fucking deserve it!" His chest is heaving now, and Louis has this smile on his face that he can't wipe off, even though he's yelling and tic'ing.

"Fuck wars! Fuck poverty and hunger and religion! Fuck it all!" He throws a few shells. Louis giggles.

He turns to Louis, cheeks a lovely red, breathing heavily. "Your turn."

Louis considers for a moment, digs his toes into the sand. "fuck Tourette's." He says quietly, and Harry nudges him.

"Speak up."

"FUCK TOURETTES!" He screams, throwing his head back. Harry laughs loudly.

"There you go! What else."

"Fuck school! Fucking shit bitch!! Fuck girls! Fuck GSCE's!" He's pounding the ground with his tiny fist now.

Harry lays back in the sand with his arms behind his head, muscles stretching and contracting, and Louis wants to curl up on his chest, right on that tattoo of a butterfly. Moth? Maybe take a nap.

"Go on." Harry prompts, still grinning, and Louis keeps yelling out obscenities mingled in with tic's.

"If there is a GOD," he finally screams, frustrated "Fuck him for making me like this." His voice dies down on the last few words to barely a whisper. He softly knocks himself in the forehead with a closed fist, and let's out a dry sob. It's not like he means for it to happen, the tears just slip out of his eyes and down his cheeks. He wipes furiously with the sleeve of his jumper to stop the flow, but another whimper escapes his lips and he's been discovered.

"Louis?" Harry's head perks up, and he sits up on his forearms in the sand.

"Fuck." Louis doesn't even bother to hide his glistening eyes now.

"Hey, hey. Look, come here." Harry crawls over and plants himself in front of Louis, opening his arms.

"I am a fucking dork." Louis sniffs, allowing himself to be enveloped in a strong grip. Large hands span his back underneath his jumper, rubbing up and down comfortingly. He wants them to stay there forever, maybe.

It's not like hugging Zayn, or his mum, or his sisters. It's different, and Louis can't decide if that's a good thing yet.

"You're not." Harry murmurs, lips at his ear. "You're _brave_."

" _Fuck! God! Shit_!" He buries his face in Harry's neck to muffle the screaming, the way he would with Zayn, and it's so nice. Harry smells like spicy soap and clean sweat, like strawberry shampoo and expensive cologne.

"I'm sorry." He says to Harry's slobbery, tear smeared shoulder once the tic is over. Harry makes a disapproving noise.

“Stop apologizing for something you can't control,” he says “It is what it is.”

It is what it is.

Louis definitely likes him.

~*~

They spend the rest of their time on the beach making awful, lumpy sandcastles and playing till the cows come home. Harry talks about Matty Healy from The 1975 for three minutes and wins, but only because Louis has to keep pausing to tic. He doesn't mind, though.

They walk back to the car giggling, bumping into one another's shoulders, and when they're halfway there, Harry grabs Louis' hand and laces their fingers together.

It should be uncomfortable, except for the fact that it's not. It's as easy and as natural as it would be with Zayn, but there's an undeniable electric current passing through the both of them that's getting stronger every minute they're together. Besides, Louis likes the way his smaller hand folds easily into Harry's large, calloused one.

They climb into the car haphazardly, only to join hands across the middle console again once Harry has gotten them onto the road. He's still shirtless, sand falling from his curls that have slightly frizzed from the humidity on the beach. He's so lovely.

“It's one in the morning.” Harry states dumbly after a while of silence, gesturing towards the digital radio clock with the hand he has on the wheel. His thumb mindlessly rubs circles on the back of Louis' hand.

“I guess it is.” Louis smiles and shrugs, his jumper slipping off his shoulder. He isn't surprised when he feels nimble fingers tug in back into place.

~*~

“Louis William Tomlinson do you have any idea how worried sick I was about you!”

Harry has dropped Louis off at his house, discreetly slowing down to let Louis jump out of the car, but not before they exchange numbers.

Louis can't even bring himself to apologize to his mum right now, who had been sitting at the kitchen table in her robe when he'd snuck through the front door in hopes of just escaping to his room unnoticed.

“I'm alright though, aren't I, mum? Fuck. Shit, sorry. Bad.” He makes a show of spinning around to show her that no damage has been done.

“You're filthy.” She wipes at his sandy bum and back before tutting exasperatedly, throwing her hands up.

“Go on up to bed then!” She can't hide her grin, or the fact that she's just happy Louis is doing normal, teenage things.

“You're just lucky you didn't wake up your sisters!” She calls after him as he takes the stairs two by two.

He locks himself in his room and slides down against the door, smiling like a fucking idiot.

Tugging at his bottom lip with his fingers for a moment, he thinks of the crumpled piece of napkin he has in his pocket with Harry's number scrawled on it.

He shuffles on his knees to the bed to retrieve his phone, and discovers a few texts already waiting on him.

_1:57 am  
From: +44 345 679 7689_

_What's the difference between a dirty bus station and a crab with boobs?_

_1:59 am  
From: +44 345 679 7689_

_One's a crusty bus station, and the other is a busty crustacean._

Louis laughs out loud, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. He saves Harry's number as 'Hair Styles' with an emoji, and that's that.

~*~

_3:34 pm  
From: Hair Styles_

_Concentrate on your studying, slacker! Stop texting me._

Louis stares down at his phone that he's got wedged between his desk and legs, smiling widely. He and Harry have been texting nonstop for a week, and Louis likes him more every day.

_3:34 pm  
To: Hair Styles_

_Fuck u_

He sends that off just as his professor finishes her speech about protons, not that he was paying any sort of attention. He's thankful for the last bell ringing when it does, gathering up his stuff as fast as he can.

His phone buzzes again once he's down the hallway, attaching himself to Zayn's side.

_3:40 pm  
From: Hair Styles_

_When and where_

His blush is evident as he locks his phone. They've been bantering back and forth like that for a while, and Harry never fails to make something into an innuendo. Zayn quirks an eyebrow at him and his lips pull into a knowing smile, but he doesn't say anything, just winds his arm around Louis' waist and pinches his side.

"Shut up." Louis says anyway, flicking his nose.

~*~

It's another two weeks before Louis sees Harry again.

“Lou, D'you wanna go out for a movie tonight?” Zayn asks from his spot on Louis' bed, flipping through an issue of GQ.

“As long as we don't see anything scary," Louis absently replies, threading the colorful beads he has in his hands through a thin plastic strip to create a bracelet for his youngest sister, Doris. “You know how I get when we watch scary shit.”

“Nah, Pez wants to go see The Fault in Our Stars. Niall and his mates are coming too, and I think maybe-” Niall and his mates.

“Harry's coming? Fuck me." Louis interrupts, looking up from his beading at Zayn, who nods his head with a grin.

“So we're on a first name basis with curly now are we?”

“Zayn. I'm not-”

“Admit it. You like him and you want his long-haired, soppy romantic self to sweep you off your feet.”

Louis imagines Harry in full knightly armor, swooping in through his bedroom window and stealing him away on a noble steed. Nope. No thank you.

“Shut up.” Is all he can seem to say to Zayn lately, lobbing a blue bead at the back of his head.

~*~

“You look fine, Louis. Stop fucking your quiff up! I worked hard on that, stop-” Zayn bats Louis' hand away when it darts up to his hair, knocking his fingers away from the carefully styled quiff.

Louis is dressed in tight denim fuck-me jeans that he's borrowed from Zayn and an elbow length baby blue button down that clings to his curves.

“My bum looks big in these ” Louis pouts, and Zayn rolls his eyes.

“Isn't that the point?” He gives Louis' arse a smack, issuing a shriek.

“Now shut up and get in the car. We have to go pick up Pez and the lads.”

They drive with the radio blasting Drake, and all Louis can think about is Harry. They'd had a short conversation before bed on the phone last night, both expressing excitement about seeing one another again, but now, Louis is nervous. He's never had a prospective romantic interest before, never had someone give him any kind of attention in that way.  
He isn't sure what to think of it. It makes his tummy all flippy.

They pull into a large driveway thats connected to an even larger house, and Zayn unbuckles the both of them.

“We can do this.” He says, and Louis knows that he's talking mostly to himself about Perrie.

Louis begins to panic once they knock on the door and are greeted by Niall's wide smile. They shuffle inside the house and it smells new, sort of a cross between wet paint and freshly cut wood. It's nice.

"Pez is usin the loo right now," Niall says to Zayn with a dismissive hand "you know, makeup and all that." He gives a scoff, mutters 'girls, honestly,' Then waves them on to follow him upstairs.

"Liam!" Niall yells once they're outside a door, rapping it with the back of his knuckle a few times. "You and Harry decent in there?"

Louis' brain starts going a mile a minute. Does he look okay? What if his quiff wilts halfway through the end of the night? Is this shirt too tight?

There's a loud laugh from inside the room, so Niall shrugs and swings the door open.

Harry is perched on a pillow on the floor, gorgeous as ever. An xbox controller is clutched in his hands, and Liam, Louis assumes, is trying to balance his arse on Harry's head.

"Louis!" Harry yelps once he catches sight of the group in the doorway. He scrambles off the floor, knocking Liam out of the way. His leg gets tangled in the wires that lie there as he attempts to stand, and he trips rather gracelessly with a loud curse. They all laugh at him. Louis just wants a hug.

"Hey, Harry. Fuck you Liam!" He waves, and then he wants to cry. He's just insulted one of Harry's friends. He hears Zayn start to explain it to a confused Liam as his space is suddenly being invaded with long curls and green eyes, and he's being picked up and thrown over Harry's shoulder. He screeches and beats on his back to protest, as if he's not immensely pleased, kicking his legs out.

"Let me down, you great oaf!"

Harry laughs, deep and low, and Louis can feel the vibration of it travel right through his chest. He feels kind of great right now.

"You and I are going somewhere of our own." Harry explains, and okay. "Zayn, I'm borrowing him for the night, if that's fine." He doesn't really say it as a question, and the snort Zayn gives tells Louis all he needs to know.

On the way down the stairs, Louis gives up and goes lax, wrapping his legs around Harry's waist, arms around his neck. Harry nuzzles his cheek right away, pressing a soft, feather light kiss to the spot.

It makes Louis' heart flutter in his chest wildly, butterflies well up in his stomach. This is so strange, so intimate. He likes it rather a lot. Wants to do this all the time.

"Are you just gonna be my own personal koala, today?" Harry asks once they're out the front door, standing in the dimming light of the evening. He's leaning his arse against his car, hands supporting Louis' back underneath his shirt.

"Probably. Fucking hell, shut up." Louis mutters, staring up at the column of Harry's throat from his spot laying on his chest. Harry smells like Harry, all soap and cologne. "You smell good."

"Thank you," Harry chuckles, peering into Louis' face "And as much as I'd love that," His arms tighten protectively around Louis' middle, fingers lightly tracing the skin of his back. "I think we have somewhere to be."

"And where are you stealing me," Louis turns away to tic "away to, great prince?"

"Ah, that is but a secret, dear princess." Harry sets Louis down daintily and takes hold of one of his hands, bringing it up to brush his lips over Louis' knuckles.

Louis resembles a ripe tomato as he snatches his hand from Harry's grasp and makes his way to the other side of the car, climbing in.

"I made you blush!" Harry yells, getting into the drivers seat. He pokes at Louis' face, pinches his cheek once, and starts up the car.

It only seems natural when Harry's hand falls to rest beside him, that Louis lace their fingers together. He doesn't miss the smile that spreads it's way across Harry's features as he does it, dimples revealing themselves.

~*~

It's a silent ride, and a long one at that.

Harry asks Louis what fast food he likes along the way, and when he says Taco Bell, Harry looks at him in confusion.

"I've never been there, I don't think."

"Oh my god. Are you serious?" Louis can't believe his ears.

He declares then that they absolutely have to stop to eat there, which they do. Harry complains about the wait in line, but once they get their food and start eating, he lights up like a Christmas tree.

"Oh, shit." He says around a mouthful of seven layer burrito. It comes out as "ooh shuh" and Louis can't help but laugh.

"It's good right?" "Hello poppet!" He turns his head to tic, and a woman across from them makes it a point to stare in confusion. He ignores it.

"Very good." Buwh goot.

"I'm glad I'm the one you lost it with." Louis says in mock seriousness, placing a hand over Harry's where it holds his burrito.

Harry stops mid-chew, eyes wide. "Lost what?" Losh whuh?

"Your-" Louis closes his eyes and sighs deeply "Taco Bell virginity."

Harry makes a pained sound in the back of his throat as he inhales his food, laughing and choking. His face is beet red, eyes glistening with tears by the time he's gathered his bearings.

"Fuck," he wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand once he's finished dying. "You're funny." His smile is genuine.

It's easy with him, and Louis feels so good about himself. For once, he doesn't feel like a complete outsider. He feels wanted. Right now, all the fuckwads at school that make his life a living hell don't matter. All the doctors that tell him he'll have to have multiple brain surgeries by the time he's forty don't matter. It's just he and Harry.

"So, what's this surprise you keep going on about?" Louis picks at his taco salad with a spork, spearing a few pieces of lettuce and cheese into his mouth.

"Well," Harry chews another bite, then takes a long sip of his Pepsi. "It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, yeah? Besides. Just trust me." And Louis can't really argue with that.

"By the way," Harry leans in a little over the table, gesturing for Louis to come nearer "you look gorgeous tonight." He says once they're inches apart, making Louis sputter over a reply, flushing a deep red.

~*~

"It's an aquarium. Fucking fish factory."

Louis leans against the hood of Harry's car, arms crossed in front of him. His fingers twitch.

"That's right."

They're the only vehicle in the car park right now, seeing as though it's nearly eight at night.

"It's closed."

Louis looks at Harry, who gives a devilish grin. There's an unmistakable jingle of keys behind his back.

"What the hell? What'd you do, charm the pants off an employee?" Louis laughs, and Harry looks scandalized.

"My sister works here, I'll have you know." He elbows Louis in the side and grabs for his hand as they start walking to the entrance.

"I remember you saying you wanna be a marine biologist, so. Thought it'd be cool. Plus, there's fishies!" He gives his signature frog smile that Louis' become all too aquatinted with over FaceTime. He feels his heart melting in his chest.

"Calm down, Darla." He says, and Harry looks at him blankly.

"Darla," Louis emphasizes "Finding Nemo?" He gestures as though he's holding a fish in a bag, shaking it violently. "Wake up, fishie!" He mocks as best he can, and Harry nearly doubles over.

He feels a wave of tics wash through him then, turning away from Harry as he twitches.

"Hey hey hey," Harry stops laughing suddenly and flips Louis around by his shoulders to face him. "Hey," He tilts Louis' chin up with his hand and looks into his face seriously.

"Stop turning away when you do it, Lou. I told you. It is what it is, yeah?" Yes, Louis remembers that phrase vividly. He's repeated it in his head many times since Harry said it, like when he went to the grocery store with his mum and started yelling about "Fucking frozen peas", or when he had an episode in the middle of trigonometry class that they'd sent him out for. It is what it is.

"I know, I'm sorry-"

"Stop bloody apologizing," He chuffs Louis' chin lightly with one finger, smiling.

"You don't have a thing to be sorry for, except maybe for being so damn cute."

~*~

Harry manages to get the large double doors open after a few tries of the key, and Louis is in awe of what he sees behind them.

The aquarium is large, rows upon rows of glass tunnels filled with various marine animals decorate the spacious area. He walks through one like a dork, tapping on the glass with his nose pressed up against it. An angelfish swims by quickly followed by a stingray. It's a whole other world, underwater. Louis could get lost in it.

"You like it?" Harry chuckles, hooking his finger in Louis' belt loop from behind.

"I fucking love it, yeah? You're amazing. Amazing he's amazing!" He makes his signature noise, a high pitched squeal in the back of his throat, and clucks his tongue. His breath is fogging the glass as he stares at a tiger shark circling one of the larger tanks. He wants to be in there with it for some reason. It swims so powerfully, striped tail whipping back and forth in the water.

"So this is a good first date, then?" He's so immersed that he nearly misses the words. Nearly.

"Wait," he flips around "this is a-" he's cut off, breath hitching when Harry strides forward once on his impossibly long legs and they're nose to nose. Harry is looming over him with an intense yet soft look in his eyes.

"I like you," He whispers after a few agonizing seconds, hands coming up to ghost Louis' arms over his shirt. "I really, really-" Harry moves closer, their lips inches apart. Louis feels like he's in a haze, eyes half-lidded and muscles turning into lime green jello. "Like you." His large hands come up to caress Louis' cheeks, nearly covering the whole expanse of his jaw. He runs his thumbs over the sharp cuts of Louis' cheekbones, traces Louis' features lightly with the pads of his fingertips.

"You're beautiful," Harry says lowly, kissing over one of Louis' now closed eyelids "You're smart," he presses his lips to the tip of Louis' nose "You're kind," he kisses the corner of Louis' mouth, lingering. "but most of all," Harry says, breath fanning over his lips. "You're brave." His stomach flips once Harry says those words, butterflies threatening to fly out through his mouth.

It's a few seconds before Louis feels Harry press a hesitant kiss to his top lip, as if he's certain Louis will push him away. He kisses Louis' bottom lip, then both of them, and it's so fucking lovely and soft that Louis is afraid to move. He's afraid to ruin this perfect moment.

"Please," He finds himself whimpering against those lips, hands balled into fists on Harry's chest as he leans into his touch.

That's all it takes for Harry, apparently. The gap is completely closed between them, their mouths slotting together as Harry turns his head just so. Louis throws all rationality out the window and slides his arms around Harry's neck, threading his fingers through those long curls. He wants to pull Harry in, to stay in this moment forever. It's beautiful, is what it is, Louis thinks. It's fucking poetic.

It's almost too much for him. The feel of Harry's plush, big lips against his own has his head spinning. He tastes like food and mint and cherry lip balm and it's just.

Harry pulls away, but not by much, and Louis chases his lips with a whine. They both give a quick laugh before they're connected once more, pressing themselves to one another as much as they can.

Harry's lips move like he speaks, slowly, almost lazily. It's intoxicating. Louis is getting drunk off of a kiss and before he can start giggling at how stupid that sounds, Harry's tongue slides into his mouth and he is fucking gone. His eyes roll back behind his shut eyelids and he makes a sound he doesn't think he's ever made before. Things just can't seem to dull down from there, but Louis isn't complaining at all. He also isn't tic'ing. So far so good.

The noises they make each time they separate are running straight to Louis' cock, and if he's not mistaken, that is certainly not a cell phone pressing into his stomach on Harry's end.

Harry moans pointedly when Louis gently pushes him against the glass of one of the tanks, sliding his thigh between Harry's legs, and it's the hottest thing Louis has ever heard in his life. It's deep, guttural. Almost like an instinctive noise. Animalistic.

"Fuck, Lou." Harry breathes once they break apart for a moment. They're panting and wanton already, erections pressing together against the zippers of their trousers.

"Fucking-" Louis tries to stop himself, he wills his brain to focus and cooperate, just this once for fucks sake, but can't. He tics. He scrunches his face up in a way that he's sure isn't the least bit attractive, and ruins the moment.

He's about to apologize, to start crying maybe, but he glances at Harry who isn't even phased. He doesn't look disgusted, doesn't lose his hard-on. He's still trained on Louis' face, lust clouding his eyes. He flips around so he's the one holding Louis against the tank, pulling him closer by his bum. He tilts Louis' head to the side by his hair, exposing his neck.

"Want you so much." He whispers into Louis' skin, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses from his throat to right behind his ear. "So pretty, baby. You're so beautiful."

Louis thinks maybe he will start crying, but from an entirely different reason.

He's torn between a moan and a sob when Harry's hand reaches down to palm him through the fabric of his jeans.

"Harry," Louis gasps, arching into the his touch. Their mouths find one another again, and Louis loses himself inch by inch, lightly sucking on Harry's tongue, exploring his mouth eagerly. Harry's hand working him is making him lose his mind.

"Harry," he breathes again when they separate, hands on either side of the much taller boys' neck, bucking into Harry's grip on his cock wildly. His lips are tingling, kiss bitten and swollen.

"You're so pretty." Harry repeats. He presses his thumb against the outline of Louis' dick through his trousers and it feels so good that Louis has to laugh a little.

"What's funny?" Harry asks darkly. His palm is pressing over and down now, with more pressure than before.

"Nothing I'm. Fuck. Harry."

Harry leans forward, lips at Louis' ear. "You've no idea the things I want to do to you, Louis,"

He feels a shudder run through him at those words, cock giving a jump as a pearl of precome blurts out, wetting his briefs.

Louis gives out little breathy moans as he gets closer to coming, holding onto Harry for dear life. Harry's hand finally slithers it's way into Louis' trousers and underneath his pants, and he only just gets a good handle on Louis' cock when he spills without warning into Harry's fist, hips jumping.

"Fuck! Harry, no. Shit, I'm sorry-"

"You're so fucking sexy-"

"Who's that?" A distant voice that isn't Harry's demands. Both of their heads snap up, suddenly broken out of their hazy trance. The sound of shoes clacking against marble tile is heard, echoing throughout the aquarium. Louis' head is still spinning from his orgasm, and he gives a laugh.

Harry's eyes go wide as he pulls his come-covered hand out of Louis' trousers.

"Who's there? This is trespassing!" Harry grabs Louis' hand without thinking much about it, and it makes a squelching sound as the come slides between their interlocked fingers. It's gross, but there isn't much time to dwell on it before Harry is running them towards the front doors, laughing wildly. They get outside and Louis' fly is still undone but he feels so fucking alive, having just came his brains out, running to avoid being arrested.

"Holy shit! There he is! Fuck!" Harry is dying from laughter as they reach his car. They wrench their hands apart and both cringe at the feeling as they climb into the car hurriedly. The security guard makes it to the window and is talking on his radio, trying to open the door, when Harry shoves him the finger and speeds out of the car park.

~*~

Louis goes through a rigorous tic session once they're on the road, laughing and twitching as Harry relays the events over.

"Did you fucking see that! We were fucking amazing, we just ran from the cops! Well," Harry rolls his eyes and tilts his head "almost the cops. Close enough. We'll say it was the cops when we tell the lads." Louis thinks this is the fastest he's ever heard Harry speak.

"Might wanna wipe our hands." He mumbles, holding his own out in front of him like a dirty sock.

"Oh! Fuck, um. V'got wetties in there." Harry gestures to the glovebox with his elbow while he drives, hovering his hand above the wheel as not to get it messy. Louis wastes no time in getting them out.

He cleans himself gingerly, then reaches for Harry's hand that's in the air.

His come is still warm and gooey on Harry's palm, a few glistening drops are beaded on his fingertips and between his fingers. Louis is overwhelmed with a fleeting desire and before he can stop himself he's raising Harry's fingers to his lips and parting for them. He sucks Harry's index finger into his mouth, collecting the salty come on his tongue and swallowing.

"Louis what the f-" Harry says amusedly, but cuts himself off once he glances over. His eyes darken immediately and he takes a shuddery breath "Oh my god, holy fuck that's," Louis kitten licks all over Harry's hand, sliding his tongue between his index and middle finger, over his rings. "You're.. Fuck." Louis hums noncommittally, smirking.

He literally has no idea where this new libido and sexual confidence is coming from, but he likes it. He likes the rush that he's feeling from Harry's aroused eyes on him. He feels fearless, and hot, and he wants more. He never wants this feeling to end.

"Jesus, Louis." Harry shifts awkwardly in his seat, the outline of his erection clearly visible now through his pants.

Louis can do this. Louis can do whatever the fuck he wants, and right now Louis wants nothing more than Harry's cock in his mouth. Right fucking now.

He unbuckles himself without a word, thankful for it being so dark out so Harry can't see the blush burning his cheeks.

He can feel Harry's heated gaze on him, though, as he shuffles closer.

"Lou?"

He wants to say something sultry, something sexy, but all that comes out is "Can I, um. Can I suck you? Cock! Your cock, fuckin-n-n," he tilts his head on each stutter, eyes blinking.

"Holy fuck, are you sure? I'm. Shit." Louis is grateful that Harry seems just as nervous as he is about the whole thing, because the fact that Louis has no experience that surpasses his hand, his fingers or a stolen dildo is starting to catch up with them right now.

He reaches for Harry's trousers, head ducking underneath the arm he has on the wheel. Harry's nose is in Louis' hair for a moment, lips pressing a sweet kiss to the top of his head while Louis unbuttons and unzips, hand brushing over the straining, growing bulge. He's nervous, but he wants this, wants to make Harry feel good.

Harry lifts up for a moment for Louis to slide his trousers and boxer-briefs down his thighs just enough, cock springing free. Harry's breath hitches when his dick hits the air, and he glances between it, Louis and the road.

Louis' mouth waters at the sight of Harry's cock. It's thick and long, curving up the slightest bit near the head, glistening wet at the tip with precome.

"Fuck." He says, trying to calm himself.

"Louis, you don't have to-" Harry moves to tuck himself back in, but Louis catches his hand.

"No, god. You're just so...big. Big cock." he knows he sounds sheepish and childlike, but he's in awe.

Harry gives a terse laugh, eyes trained ahead of him on the road. "Have you ever?" He says softly, fingers combing through Louis' hair.

He tics, embarrassed, as he shakes his head. "No."

"That's okay," Harry pauses and gives a short cough. The force of it causes his cock to jerk, slapping against Louis' mouth.

Louis catches it without thinking, parting his lips and sheathing them around the swollen head, moaning at the feel and taste of it.

"Yes." Harry hisses, running his free hand over Louis' shoulders and down his back. His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration while he tries not to crash the car.

Louis traces his tongue over the veins he feels as he takes Harry farther down his throat, grabbing what he can't take into his mouth with his hands. He doesn't realize he's circling his hips into the seat of the car until he feels a hand on his own cock through his pants.

"So hot, baby. So eager for me," Harry curses under his breath and adjusts himself at the wheel so that he can lean over a bit. "Get your cock out." He orders, and the sheer authority he says it with has Louis obeying immediately.

Louis sighs as much as he can with a dick in his mouth once he pushes his trousers down and the pressure is relieved. His bum is out too, exposed, and Harry immediately focuses on it. Louis' cock drags against the cool black leather of the seat, leaving a wet trail as he moves his hips to gain some friction.

Harry kneads his free hand over each arse cheek roughly, then smooths his palm over them both and gives a light smack. He keeps glancing heatedly between Louis and the road, like he's ready to park the car and tear Louis apart.

Louis tenses when he feels the sting of the slap, but it's not a bad feeling. It sets his nerves on the very edge, though, and he feels like he's going to tic any minute. He prays he doesn't.

"Look at that fucking arse." Harry growls, running his fingers between Louis' cheeks. He dips into the cleft and faintly trails a dry digit over Louis' hole, then the pleasant pressure of his fingers are gone completely.

Louis wants to whine at the lack of contact, but as quickly as it's left, it's back again, and this time it's Harry's palm slick with spit, stroking his cock agonizingly slow. He rotates his hips into Harry's hand, pulling his mouth off of Harry's cock with a wet 'slurp' to catch his breath.

He tic's a few good times, squeezing his eyes shut, but it passes, and soon his throat is full once more. He buries Harry's cock down as far as it'll go, nosing at the coarse, dark curls that are gathered at the base of his dick. He smells faintly of sweat and sweet musk, and Louis is simply mewling.

"Look so good with my cock in your mouth, Lou. Bet you love this, yeah? Anyone can look in and see," Harry says authoritatively. He's so fucking good at dirty talk, and his words are coaxing precome out of Louis' dick with practiced ease. "Anyone can see how gorgeous you are with that big arse out, fuck." He bucks up a little into Louis' mouth, murmuring that he's close.

Louis' balls are tight and contracting, too, and he all he needs is that little push over the edge to come. He pops off Harry's dick, only to breathe out, quickly "Pull my hair." And sinks back down again.

Harry is hesitant at first, grabbing a fistful of hair and only lightly tugging, but Louis resists against the hold, silently willing Harry to yank. Which he does. Hard.

Louis' vision whites out and he shoots into Harry's hand for the second time tonight, crying out around the cock shoved into his mouth. It isn't long before Harry is softly pushing Louis head up and off of him, grabbing his own cock and wanking himself roughly, eyes trained on the road in front of him, still.

It's all so hot, Harry's big hand on his even bigger cock, thumb swiping over the head for more lubrication. He spills over his fist with a grunt while Louis kisses at his sweaty neck, one hand still tightly gripped onto the wheel, knuckles turning white.

~*~

Louis doesn't recall dozing off, but when he wakes, his head is cradled in Harry's lap.

They're still on the way home, Louis realizes as he feels the light bumps of tires rolling on the road. He remembers everything all at once.

"Haz?" He croaks out, throat sore and dry. Harry promptly glances down and gives a dimply grin, removing one of his hands from the wheel to rub Louis' scalp with his fingertips, lightly scratching.

"You conked out," Harry explains, eyes flitting back to the road. "You okay?" He adds as an afterthought, brows furrowed.

"M'alright," Louis rasps, voice grated. He sort of likes it, his throat being so thoroughly fucked that he can barely speak. It's a nice pain.

"We're almost home, baby." Harry says softly. Louis feels his face get warm at the pet name easily rolling off Harry's tongue, as if they've been together for years.

"Okay." Louis replies sleepily, nuzzling into Harry's hand where it's carding through his fringe.

~*~

_8:34 am  
From: Hair Styles_

_Had an amazing time last night ;)_

_8:40 am  
To: Hair Styles_

_Really? I couldn't tell_

_8:42 am  
From: Hair Styles_

_Oi, sarcasm. Watch it. Might have to spank u_

_8:44 am  
To: Hair Styles_

_Sorry for being bad, daddy._

 

And that's really how it starts.

Harry doesn't text back immediately after that, even though the message was read at 8:44 am, and Louis starts to panic a little. He's laying in his bed with his phone resting on his forehead, arms crossed over his chest. Zayn is snoring next to him in his bed, drooling on the pillow.

He hadn't meant anything by the text, not really. He'd only meant to be sarcastic and witty, not to scare Harry away completely.

8:50 am  
From: Hair Styles

Just don't let it happen again, baby.

Okay. Okay.

"Fuck." Louis says out loud, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.

"Louis." Zayn groans, annoyed, muffled into the pillow.

"Bugger off," Louis snaps "Go back to sleep. Wanker! Fluffy haired wanker."

"I can't when you're over there moaning over your boyfriends texts."

"He's not my bloody boyfriend." Louis smiles as he says it, though, scrubbing both his hands over his face.

"Go make me food." Zayn demands, untangling from the comforter and sheets and draping himself over Louis' back, chin hooking in his shoulder.

"Fucking menace." Louis tics, smacking Zayn in the face.

They waddle down the stairs and into the kitchen, taking in the silent house. Lottie is at a friends, Daisy and Phoebe are with Ernest and Doris at their grandparents and his mum and Dan are at work. It's a rare day.

"So, Lou." Zayn hops into a barstool and spins around once, rapping his knuckles on the granite countertop.

"So Lou what." Answers Louis, ducking down underneath the kitchen cabinets to retrieve a cast-iron skillet for sausage.

"How was last night?"

Louis puts the pan on the stove and turns around, hands on his hips. He cocks his leg out and gives Zayn an appraising look.

"I won't make you food." He challenges, but Zayn pushes on.

"Did last-"

"Don't fucking say it."

"Did last night... _Suck?"_ Louis groans loudly and buries himself in the fridge, grabbing the butter and eggs.

"It's none of your business is it."

Zayn scoffs, and Louis can practically hear his eyes rolling.

"Regardless on whether or not it's my business, you do need to be careful. He's older than you, more experienced. I just don't want you hurt, Lou."

Louis understands that concept, and in this moment, he's so thankful for Zayn. He realizes that no matter what, Zayn will always be there to support his decisions and offer advice. He loves Zayn.

"Thank you, and I appreciate your concern." Is all he says in reply.

He feels as though he's floating, as though nothing in the world could bring him down from this high. He's went through his entire life feeling like an outcast, with his Tourette's, then his OCD, and then finding out in sixth form that he'd rather watch other boys shower in the locker room after footie than discuss tit sizes with Zayn at lunch. He always felt like he could never catch a break, but Harry came along and it's like everything is falling into place. It's kind of scary to him, in more ways than one.

Louis has never been more attracted to someone in his life, is the thing. It's like Harry has this weird sexual gravitational pull, and he is being slowly drug towards it.

He's afraid of being inexperienced, afraid of fucking up, but he's also insecure about his body and voice and especially his tics. He knows that Harry is a prospective relationship, he's not stupid. He knows that one of two things will happen; either Harry will fuck him and leave, or he'll stick around for a while, and he hopes to god that it's the latter, because he doesn't think he could handle a heartbreak.

~*~

_"You know you're adorable. Don't even try and deny it."_

Louis blushes from his hair to his toenails as he hears those words being spoken in his ear. Harry's voice is even deeper over the phone, somehow. They've made this a nightly ritual of sorts, to call one another and talk themselves tired.

Louis is sprawled out under his comforter in his briefs, twirling a strand of caramel hair around his index finger.

"Shut up." He says cutely around biting his nail, humming and popping his lips.

He and Harry haven't actually seen one another in person since their date, which was one week and three days ago. Not that Louis is counting. No, of course not.

Harry is busy with uni, apparently, studying hard to become a pediatrician. He's read out a few sentences in his textbook over the phone to Louis on one occasion, and the material in which it contained was so boring that Louis quite literally fell asleep while listening. Louis doesn't think he'll go to uni.

 _"Adorable and beautiful and gorgeous. Sexy, too, we can't forget sexy_." Harry chuckles, although his voice drops an octave on the last word.

Louis rolls his eyes and sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, trying not to smile like a dolt.

"I'm nowhere near sexy, Harry, but okay. Whatever you say."

Harry groans in aggravation.

 _"You have got to be fucking kidding me. You, not sexy? Have you seen yourself_ ," there's a loud rustling on Harry's end, as if he's settling into bed.

" _That face, Lou. That arse. That body. You've got sexy tattooed all over you, innit."_

"You need to not." Louis laughs loudly, embarrassed now but also slightly turned on by the way Harry can say things like that so easily about him.

" _Really want daddy to stop?"_ Harry says it in a mockingly alluring voice, and Louis knows he's joking, but his breath stops once it registers and a hot jolt of arousal pangs through his belly, fattening up his cock. He moves his hand under the blanket to adjust himself, suddenly frustrated. Louis doesn't know why he's so affected by the word.

"You okay?" Harry speaks in his ear, and it only adds to his erection, Harry's liquid voice encasing him in a world of velvet. It all feels so sensual. Extremely erotic.

"I'm fine." His voice comes out more choked and watery than he would've liked, though.

~*~

After saying their respective goodbyes, instead of going to bed like a normal person, Louis learns what it feels like to have something up his arse for the first time.

He stands and walks around his room for a minute, palming himself slowly. He's impossibly hard in his white cotton briefs, a small wet spot staining the front. He feels like if he doesn't get some intense relief, he'll explode.

He grabs his laptop from his desk and unplugs it from the charger, padding back to his bed and settling back into the pillows. He's nervous, because he knows what he's about to do is probably a really big sexual milestone and he doesn't quite know if he's all that ready for it.

He opens up his browser and goes straight for google, typing in 'bum stuff' then erasing and replacing it with 'how to finger yourself male'.

He has to go through a lot of rubbish and porn sites, but eventually he finds something helpful.

'Get comfortable,'

Louis fluffs his pillows and lays down, stripping off his underwear. It's cold in his room, because he's a strange boy that has to have air on even when it's cold out, but he doesn't mind. His erection is red and angry under his foreskin, and he wants to touch, to wank himself until he comes with Harry in mind, but he has other plans. Wants to drag it out as long as possible.

'Make sure you have lube,'

Lube... Lube. He quickly looks up alternatives for it, and he's torn between olive oil and Vaseline when he sees 'saliva' as an option, which seems like the safest to him.

'Spread your legs,'

He sets his laptop at a comfortable angle so he doesn't have to strain his neck and kicks his comforter away so he can spread out, psyching himself up. He pushes his hair out of his eyes and takes a deep breath, laughing a bit in embarrassment.

He tics as he grabs his cock, wanking himself dry, just to keep himself interested.

Louis reads the rest of the steps and it seems fairly easy, albeit terrifying.

He brings his fingers between his lips and swirls his tongue around, reminded immediately of that night in the car. He thinks of how his come had tasted, mixed with Harry's skin and his cock gives a twitch.

Louis shakes out his nerves with a few very loud tics, knocking on his wall five times, before trailing his hand down. He stops to thumb his nipples until they're raw and sensitive, arching his back and hissing. He's thinking of it as practice.

His hands morph into Harry's once he has his eyes closed. He thinks of those rough, guitar-calloused palms smoothing down his thighs, coaxing them open. He imagines steady, long and slick fingers brushing his hole. When he finally breaches himself, it's a sensation he realizes he'll definitely have to get used to.

He steadies one hand on his cock, anchoring himself while he slips his middle finger past the first ring of tightening muscle. It's not all that great, if he's completely honest, and he's starting to wonder what all the fuss is about when he crooks his finger inside himself in a different angle and... Oh.

"Fuck! Shit!" He yells, turning to bite into his pillow. He'd brushed over what he knew was his prostate, and it feels so amazing that he scrambles to find it again. Once he does, its all he can do not moan out Harry's name.

Louis rubs his finger around the spot, panting and sweating while his hand rests at the base of his cock. He knows for a fact that if he just barely touches himself, he'll come.

He slips a second finger in alongside the first, crooking one and jabbing his prostate with the other in short, quick motions.

His arm is beginning to cramp from the way he has it set, so he changes his position on the bed, getting onto his knees. He reaches his hand behind him and enters himself again, the new angle causing a whole new wave of pleasure. His cock and balls are hanging heavy between his legs as he works himself into a whimpering mess, wishing his fingers were longer and thicker and possibly Harry's.

Shit, Louis wants Harry. He wants Harry so fucking much, wants to just... Fuck, he just wants to call Harry daddy.

God damn it.

"Oh fucking hell. Daddy, daddy make me come oh fuck." Louis whispers, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. He's ramming into himself, now, with almost three fingers, and he's not going to last much longer. The pleasure is almost blinding as he grabs his cock which is dripping wet with precome. Louis only has to tug twice before he's spilling onto his sheets, crying out obscenities mixed in with Harry's name.

The first thought he has once he's cleaned himself up and is laying snugly under his covers in a fresh pair of briefs is that he's got to get into Harry's pants. Immediately.

He falls asleep with a smile on his lips.

~*~

Harry is throwing rocks at his window.

Louis had begun to think that Harry was tiring of him, that he'd gotten what he wanted that night at the aquarium and that Louis was an expendable person in Harry's life, because they hadn't been texting or calling one another as usual. (Granted, it had only been two days and Harry was in medical school so he was probably busy and Louis was probably overreacting)

Nevertheless, Harry Styles is outside of his home, throwing up stones that nearly miss the window each time.

Louis is peeking through his curtains curiously, debating on whether or not he should actually go down. His whole family is sleeping, and he knows that the stairs creak and the door whines when you open it even a fraction.

He pulls back his drapes and opens the window, narrowly avoiding being hit in the face with a small rock. It whizzes past him and into his room, clacking loudly against his wall.

"Oi!" He whisper-hisses to Harry, who is now grinning up at him.

"Sorry Lou." Harry calls up, and Louis shushes him hurriedly.

"My family is asleep, you goon! What are you doing here?" Louis can't hide his satisfaction, though. He's smiling.

"I've come for the fair maiden," Harry says, dropping to one knee. "Rapunzel, Rapunzel. Let down your arse that I may touch it once more." He's ridiculous. Louis might be in love.

"Rapunzel is tired and has school in the morning." Louis rests his elbows on the window-pane and leans his chin into his hands.

"Louis it's cold! Come get in the car. Come on." Harry laughs, stands back up and brushes the grass stains from the knees of his trousers. He tucks his long hair behind his ear and holds his arms out in front of him.

"Jump!" He wails theatrically "Jump into my arms!"

"You're an idiot." Louis tics, shutting his window and closing his curtains.

He can't wipe the permanent smile off his face as he searches for clothes. He settles upon a large faded hoodie and skinny jeans, dragging a brush through his fringe and spraying on some cologne before tiptoeing out of his room.

Just as he suspects, the stairs creak on his way down, and he wills himself to stay quiet through his nervousness.

It's not that he's afraid of his mum or Dan being upset that he's gay. No, he's almost positive that they'll be two hundred percent supportive when he actually tells them. He's worried about his mum being angry that he's sneaking about.

He nicks five quid from the junk drawer in the kitchen, just in case, and then-

"You're running away?" Comes Lottie's voice from the kitchen entrance.

Louis gives a loud yelp, slapping his hands over his mouth to stifle loud tics.

"God! Shit, love you scared me. God. Lotts, be more careful. Be louder. Jesus."

"You're running away, Louis?!" She says again, this time there are tears shining in her eyes.

"No, no. Go back up to bed baby and I'll be home before you know it."

"You're leaving like dad did."

Louis' heart breaks.

He kneels down beside her and pulls her into a hug, squeezing tight.

"I'll never leave you, Lottie. I'm not like dad, okay? Dad wasn't good. I'm just... Being sneaky." He whispers. It's been a long time since Louis has thought of his father. His deadbeat, good for nothing father who decided to walk out on he and his mum and the girls for no good reason. He forgets that the little ones know too, and how much it must hurt them.

"You're a terd."

Louis gasps in mock horror and pinches her sides until she's cackling for him to stop.

"Go on into your bed, kit. I love you Lotts." He smiles wryly into her hair and gives her five big kisses on the cheek.

"And don't tell mum!" He adds once she's walking away. She gives a giggle and nods, padding back up the stairs. Louis loves her so much.

 

He gets out the front door without problems and rounds the house, only to find Harry doing cartwheels in his front yard.

"This grass is so soft!" Harry whisper-yells, heaving himself backward into a back-bend. A bit of his tummy is peaking out of his white t-shirt, revealing a light trail of dark hair that Louis hadn't noticed before. He ambles over and sits right on Harry's stomach.

"Fuck! Fuck, Louis! Gerroff! I'm dying oh god-"

"Say Louis is the best. Fuck me." He challenges, wiggling his bum around.

"Louisisthebestlouisisthebest!" Harry wheezes. His arms give out then, and they're both on the grass, facing one another. They laugh until their sides are hurting, until they're snorting and unable to breathe.

Louis wants this always. He wants to be the reason for Harry's loud and unabashed laughter, and he wants only Harry to be able to make him laugh as hard as he is in this moment.

"Louis is amazing," Harry whispers, smiling his goofy sideways grin. "Louis is queen Elsa." He says randomly, leaning in to press a kiss to Louis' forehead.

They lay on the ground for a minute, thumbing one another's lips and occasionally giving quick kisses. Louis doesn't even care that they're still in his front yard. They'd probably look idiotic if anyone was watching.

"Why the fuck am I queen Elsa?"

Harry considers for a moment, furrowing his brows.

"Because he knows how to let it go!" A familiar Irish accent comes from Harry's car where it's parked on the curb. Niall.

"What does that even fucking mean?" Louis is laughing again, and he gets his answer when Niall is dashing out of the car and towards them, literally letting one rip right on top of the both of them.

"Niall you nasty fucking-" Harry grabs Niall's leg and trips him.

"Oi, you just can't appreciate good humour."

~*~

"Don't worry about Niall," Harry murmurs to Louis once they've all piled into the car. Niall has graciously offered for Louis to sit in the front, and he's passed out in the back, sprawled all over the seats. He's quite obviously drunk as hell.

"He's being dropped off on the way."

"Oh no, let's keep him with us," Louis jokes "he's good company, this one." He reaches back and pats Niall's leg for emphasis.

"I'm sure Alec is going to be thrilled." Harry mumbles, adjusting the mirror and lathering his hands in germ-x before starting up the car.

Louis is confused.

"Whose that?" He asks, giving a twitch, cupping his own hands for Harry to squirt some germ-x in.

"Niall's boyfriend. They've been together for two years now and I swear to god, their relationship is so toxic." Harry's knuckles whiten on the wheel and he grits his teeth, jaw flexing. That shouldn't be hot, but it is. Louis crosses his legs.

"Why?"

Harry glances back to make sure Niall is passed out before dropping his voice barely to a whisper. "Because they fight all the time. Over everything."

"Is it, like, physical?" Louis tightens his hold on Harry's hand sympathetically.

"No, I don't think. But Alec is so controlling. It's horrible. Niall always goes out and gets drunk because he can't handle being yelled at all the time, you know? I've always told him they should break up. He never listens."

"Love will make you do crazy things." Louis offers weakly, shrugging his shoulders.

Harry side-eyes him and breaks out in a wide, knowing grin.

They don't speak for a while after, and the only thing that can be heard is the soft whir of the heating and dull bass of the radio turned low.

Although it seems like an impossible task, Harry actually manages to heave Niall out of the car once they've arrived at his flat. He remains a limp noodle, sleeping soundly and snoring against Harry's cheek as he carries him to the door.

Louis watches as Harry knocks with his elbow twice, and a burly, tall African American man answers. He's dressed in a light blue t-shirt and pajama pants, has his long dreads tied back once with an elastic. He's very handsome, has a cut jaw and sharp eyes. From what little of his face Louis can see due to the crappy lighting above the door, he notices a smattering of freckles across his nose.

Louis turns down the radio and cuts off the heat to hear what Harry is saying. It's muffled, but he can make it out.

"He's had a bit too much Alec, that's all."

Harry hands Niall over to who Louis now knows as the infamous 'Alec,' who easily wraps Niall's legs about his waist and supports his back with one hand.

"And where was he?" The man inquires, tone deep and accusing.

"At the bar, where the fuck else."

Louis can see Harry's body language change automatically. He has one hand shoved into the pocket of his black coat and is leaning most of his weight on one leg, which is cocked up on the stoop. Louis hopes to god they don't fight, because what Harry has in agility won't match what Alec probably has in strength. The guy is built like a fucking bull.

"Thank you, Harry." Alec says through gritted teeth. He makes a move to close the door, but Harry shoves his foot between it and takes a step forward. He leans close to Alec's ear and grips the back of his neck, whispering angrily. It's clear that he's threatening, because when Harry steps away, Alec's eyes cut into slits and his nostrils flare.

"Leave." He says sternly, and Harry reluctantly removes his foot.

The door is slammed, then, and Harry is storming back to the car. Louis turns the heat back on and twitches a few times, adjusting his jumper over his hands inconspicuously, as though he weren't eavesdropping.

Harry closes the car door and takes a deep breath in through his nose, both hands on the wheel. It's as if he's trying to calm himself.

"He looked like a twat." Louis whispers after a minute, and Harry's serious expression slowly breaks down and he's laughing.

"He's black! I wish I was black," Louis blurts out, rolling his eyes and shrugging one shoulder over and over.

Harry is looking at him now with a slight smile on his gorgeous, raspberry red lips.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" He asks amusedly. Louis doesn't answer, just blushes and leans his head against the window as Harry pulls down the street.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't as long as is like it to be, but it's an update! Let me know on tumblr if you liked it! Sorry for the shit quality :(

"What the bloody hell is all this?" Louis whispers sharply, feeling his throat close and his eyes sting from the impending dam of tears thats threatening to burst and brim over. Nobody has ever done anything special for him, unless you counted the time his mum surprised him with a spur of the moment trip to Majorca when he was nine. 

Harry had driven them through a beaten trail into the woods, parking the car once they'd gotten to a dead end. They started walking from there, over horned bushes, their shoes crunching the sticks and leaves with each step they took. The air was frigid and chilly, an almost a wet sort of cold. It stung their noses and cheeks, flushing them both a rosy red.

Once they were a good ways in, Harry had slipped behind Louis and placed his hands over his eyes, guiding him along. 

The night was still and quiet, save for the distant song of cicadas and crickets playing together in an awful cacophony of orchestra, and the occasional vocal tic that forced it's way out from between Louis' lips.

"Where the fuck are we going?" Louis had asked, his hands blindly searching out in front of him, for fear of running into something. 

"Would you shut up for once?" Harry had chuckled. It was a few moments before they'd stopped and were standing still. Louis felt Harry's lips press right behind his ear, then his hands were lifted.

And here Louis is now, about to start blubbering like a newborn.

There's a small nylon tent set up in the center of three giant oaks, illuminated by a collection of softly glowing blood red candles around the stump of a tree near the tent. A card that's written on in loopy, large cursive font is sat there, along with a bouquet of white and pink-tipped ombré roses. 

"Harry?" He says brokenly, choking off on a sob.

"It's not much, is it." Harry's arms wrap around his middle from behind, his loose curls tickling Louis' nose.

He feels conflicted. Harry is twenty-four years old, taking time out of his busy life in uni to become a doctor, setting up candles in the woods to romance an eighteen-year-old debilitated cretin with a fucked up brain. It's not making sense to him, really. None of it.

"Why are you so nice to me." His lips form the words, and he says them, but he feels like he's not really here in this moment. He feels like a delayed version of himself.

They're still standing the same way, except Harry has his lips against Louis' jawline, mouthing downwards to his neck. 

"You deserve it," Harry breathes out, running his hands up Louis' hoodie and the shirt underneath. It's so nice and warm, his skin tingles to Harry's touch. "You deserve someone to kiss you, and feel you," he presses himself back into Harry's hold, tilting his neck the slightest bit. Stray tears that were pooling in his eyes slip down his cheeks at the sudden movement of his head, and he gives a watery laugh. "You deserve the world, Louis Tomlinson, and I wanna to be the one to give it to you."

"But why?" Louis sniffs, rotating his wrist in a sudden tic. He doesn't deserve anything. He's a glitch in society. A messed up gene. A failed experiment.

"Because I'm pretty sure that whatever love is, I'm in it. With you." 

It's those words that cause Louis to break down. He's clammy and nervous, and he doesn't know how to react. He's panicking, flapping both of his wrists frantically and shrugging his shoulders. 

"Fuck! Fucking bitch I fucking hate you," he steps forward once, and Harry releases his grip. Almost immediately, Louis' legs give out and he crumples to the ground in a heap, writhing like a fish out of water. He's crying, because please god, not now. Why the fuck is he having a tic attack now, in front of Harry? Lovely Harry with his beautiful green eyes and slow speaking voice gets to witness disgusting, ugly Louis beat himself up on the ground like a psycho.

"Why why why why? Why?" Louis chants, sobbing. 

"Louis what the fuck!" Harry rushes to him nearly the second he falls, grabbing his face.

"I don't know what to do! You have to tell me what to do, oh my fucking god." Harry looks terrified out of his mind, and Louis wishes that he could put him at ease. Wishes that he could just tell Harry everything is okay and that it'll pass, but his mouth and tongue along with the rest of his body is out of his own control. The only thing left to him is his thoughts, and all he can think about is how much he truly, truly hates himself. 

"Are you having a fucking seizure?! What is happening?!" Harry scoops Louis up as best as he can, bridal style. They only get a few feet before Louis' flailing fists actually come in contact with the side of Harry's head, knocking him over a bit. "Fucking hell." Harry hisses.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry sorry sorry sorry," Louis moans, tears clogging his throat and blurring his hazy vision as he convulses.

"No," Harry is crying too, blinking against the bruise that's sure to be forming around his eye. "Stop it, shut up. Calm down." 

He carries Louis back through the woods, whispering encouragements and sniffling. Louis feels so fucking bad, but he can't help it. He can't stop moving. He can't be normal. He can never and will never be what Harry actually wants or needs. 

"Your phone." Harry says once they've reached the car, opening the door to the backseat and laying Louis down across it, where he continues to sporadically writhe and sob. Harry feels around in Louis' pockets until he manages to fish out his iPhone (which has a shattered screen now due to the fall he took) Apparently it still works, because Harry unlocks it and is talking to someone in a frantic voice.

"I don't know what to do! I can't just fucking-" 

He pauses, and Louis' arm twists into an uncomfortable position behind his back. He's quite afraid he'll snap it in half, because his back is arching and dropping with a lot of pressure. 

"Are you sure?" He hears Harry say, and he fish-mouths, trying to force a noise out of his lungs. He needs help, he needs Harry to help him because if he drops onto his arm another time, it's going to break. He feels so hopeless, like an invalid.

"H-h! FUCK! AHHHH!" He yells, banging his head against the seat.  
"No, no! No, stop! Stop fuck no-"

The stinging and searing pain that's shooting up his bent arm is suddenly relieved and he's hoisted up into a sitting position. 

"I'm going to... Louis I'm going to put my finger in your mouth, okay? Just." Louis is hanging his head back limply, rolling his head from side to side and blinking uncontrollably. 

Harry holds Louis' head still as best as he can, hugging him close. He wraps Louis' limbs into his own, anchoring them down to keep him from jerking about.

Harry's fingers are pushing into his spasming mouth, and Louis wants to yell at him. He wants to tell Harry that he's an idiot because he'll probably end up biting his finger off by accident, but of course he can't, so he just cries more. 

Harrys fingers are nearing the back of his throat, pushing down with the slightest of pressure and for some reason, Louis is going limp. He feels a wave of control wash through him, feels his muscles loosen and nerves relax.

Harry rocks him from side to side, kissing his head and applying more and more pressure to his tongue until Louis' tics stop completely. 

They stay that way for about an hour, not speaking. Louis is laying on Harry's chest, still wrapped up in his arms. He feels so small, so disgustingly horribly small. 

Harry's fingers remain in Louis' mouth, and by the time he actually pulls them out, they're pruned and shriveled up, glistening with spit. 

"I'm so sorry." Louis whispers, and he feels Harry chuckle and shake his head.

"Lou. I was just scared. Stop saying sorry." He loosens his bear grip on Louis' shoulders and rubs his hands up them gently after wiping his fingers on his trousers.

"How'd you know what to do? Why did that even help?" Louis asks, playing with a button on Harry's coat.

"I looked it up. Apparently, tongue depressors and mouth guards can help too, but I'm not a doctor yet and I don't play football, so." He gives a terse laugh, and Louis really loves him. Likes him. Likes.

"Who was on the phone?"

"Zayn." 

"Oh." 

"Yeah."

"I ruined it, didn't I." Louis sighs, sniffing. He wipes his eyes on Harry's shirt and looks up at his throat, bottom lip wobbling.

"You made it interesting, is what you did." 

Louis can't help but laugh a little at that.

"I'm not going anywhere." Says Harry, out of the blue. He maneuvers himself so that he and Louis are face to face.

"What?"

"I'm not going anywhere." he repeats "You think I'm freaked out." Harry leans forward and presses their lips together softly. "I'm not." 

Louis' heart lurches forward in his chest, and something primal aches in his belly. This handsome, smart, older man is willing to deal with his problems. He's willing to look past the episodes and the twitches and the public embarrassment. 

"You wanna go home?" Harry murmurs against his lips, and Louis firmly shakes his head. They reattach again, and this time it's anything but soft and gentle. Louis just needs to be as close as possible to Harry that he can. He needs to show Harry that he needs him, wants him so much that it literally hurts. That he doesn't want to let him go. 

He swings his leg over Harry's lap and settles onto him, fisting his fingers into the silky, delicious smelling curls that frame the angels face as they kiss. 

Louis grinds himself down, rolling his hips as best he knows how. Harry makes a deep sound that rips a shiver from Louis, goose flesh rising on his arms underneath the hoodie. 

He's waiting for that switch to flip inside of Harry. He's waiting for that dominant sexual counter to reveal himself again, because he needs it. He needs to be manhandled, to be taken apart and told what to do. 

"Fuck," he breathes out once they've separated for air, barely audible, followed by a high whine. 

Harry gets a good grip on Louis' bum and squeezes so hard that Louis can feel the indentions of his rings through his trousers and pants. It feels so fucking good.

Louis mewls and pushes his arse farther into Harry's grip, leaning forward to suckle his bottom lip into his mouth and kitten lick his tongue. 

Harry's cock is hardening against Louis' stomach, length straining against the rough fabric of his jeans. Louis is fully hard himself, and it suddenly doesn't feel like its below freezing outside. 

They kiss and moan and grind against one another until their clothes absolutely have to come off. Harry is the first to shrug out of his coat, a sheen of sweat clinging to his tanned biceps. 

"Fuck you're so fit." Louis groans, and Harry's hands sneak underneath his hoodie and shirt, pulling them both over his head in one go.

He's a little self conscious of his pudgy stomach, so his arms wrap instinctively around himself and he blushes. 

"You have to know how beautiful you are." Harry's eyes are darkened with lust, and he keeps flitting his tongue out to lick over his bitten, red lips. Harry scoots Louis closer and kisses his collarbone, easing his hands away from his stomach. 

Louis tries to suck in his belly as Harry's lips trail down.

"You're fucking gorgeous." He whispers before licking a stripe over Louis' left nipple. He takes it into his mouth and looks up, right into Louis' eyes. The green isn't visible anymore in his, replaced rather by the black of his pupil.

Louis gasps and hisses, dipping his back and fisting Harry's curls. His cock is about to rip through his pants. 

Harry switches to his other nipple, nipping and biting and sucking until they're both puffy and pink, contrasting against his skin.

"Lou." Harry says, suckling Louis' shoulders and neck. "D'you wanna go to the tent? I've got blankets and stuff in there. More comfortable n'that."

"You were expecting this?" Louis asks lightheartedly, scrunching his nose.

"What?" Harry pulls away, eyes wide. He shakes his head "No no no no, Lou, absolutely not! Fuck, I'm sorry if that made you... We don't have to do anything. I didn't mean-"

Louis laughs and surges forward, capturing his mouth to kiss him quiet.

~*~

They stumble out of the car and into the woods, each with a new feeling attached to them. They're about to take their relationship further, about to fuck. Louis was about to lose his virginity. What the hell.

They giggle and kiss on the way, laughing into one another's mouths. Harry picks Louis up by his thighs and carries him the remaining distance, stumbling more than once over stray roots and rocks until they actually reach the tent.

The candles are all burned out on the stump, red wax dripping onto the delicate, wilting flower petals and the card. 

"I spent a load on those." Harry frowns exaggeratedly, setting Louis down on his feet.

"They were gonna die anyway." Louis stretches out his arms and makes grabby hands.

"You're a needy little boy, aren't you?" 

A zing of arousal shoots through his tummy, fattening up his cock.

"Get in the tent before you freeze your arse off." Harry kisses him quickly once and digs his keys out of his pocket.

"I've got to um. I left stuff in the car. Forgot it." Louis looks at him blankly, cocks his head to the side. "Condoms." 

"Oh!" He laughs "Go! Hurry, it's cold and I'm getting tired." He fake-yawns for emphasis, stretching his arms above his head. Harry digs his finger into Louis' armpit to tickle him before jogging away back down the trail.

Louis crawls inside of the tent, which is actually very roomy and spacey despite the mounds of fluffy white blankets that line the bottom. There are about a million pillows, too, and Louis laughs. It's exactly like Harry to be excessive with soft things.

He smooths out his hair, combing his fingers through it until it's mostly tangle free, then checks his breath. He sheds his trousers and socks, folds them neatly and sets them in a pile in the corner of the tent and begins twiddling his thumbs.

Harry doesn't come back for another thirty minutes, but when he does it's with a book of condoms and a bottle of lube. He's also got a teeth whitening kit, which makes Louis raise his eyebrow.

"I went to uh. I went to the store," He explains, settling in next to Louis and zipping the tent up. "I got this," he opens the box and digs around, extracting a blue rubber mouthpiece. "When you feel like you need to, you know. Just. Put this in? If you want. I know it must suck. I'm sorry you have to go through it."

Louis takes the mouthpiece from Harry and looks at it, completely astonished. Harry drove to Tesco's and spent at least 30 quid on something just to get this out. For him. Harry did this for him. 

"Thank you so much." He shakes his head, blinking against his tears. "Thank you." 

Harry doesn't answer. He only hauls Louis into his arms and cradles the back of his head protectively.

"I know you're young, Lou. I know I might not be what you need, or what you want, but I like you so much. I.. I love you. So fucking much that sometimes it feels like I'm hurting to be away from you. It's only been a few months.. And I know it's too soon to say I love you but I do. I do." Harry is crying by the end of it, sniffling against Louis' hair.

"Harry. God, Harry." Louis pulls back and rests his hands on the sides of Harry's face, thumbing his cheeks to wipe away the tears. There's so much crying tonight.

"I love you." Harry says again, shaking his head as if he's in disbelief. 

"Then make love to me."

~*~ 

Harry is hovering over Louis, who is laid back against the pillows in the tent, fully nude. 

Harry's dog tags are dangling down, brushing against Louis' chest every time he leans in to press a bruising kiss to his lips. 

Harry's biceps and the hard line of the space where his neck connects to his his shoulder is illuminated by the moonlight. A shadow is cast over his face, too, in all the most perfect ways. He looks like an ethereal, tattooed prince ascended from heaven itself.

"Baby," His voice is deep and lust-ridden "Gonna make you feel so good." He kisses Louis again, slowly, before pulling away and shuffling down. 

He spreads Louis' milky thighs out gently, taking his time to suck dark bruises into each. Louis bites down on his knuckles and watches the display through hooded eyelids. 

Harry lifts Louis' balls up a bit and mouths at his perineum, causing the smaller boy to cry out.

"You're so precious." Harry muses, trailing his tongue lower until it's between Louis' cheeks. He licks and sucks, purposely avoiding his hole. 

"You really want to do this?" He asks, tongue inches away from where Louis needs it.

"Yes. Fuck yes, Harry. I need you. Please." 

His whole body is overtaken by sensations only best described with exclamation points. Harry is licking stripes over his entrance now, dipping his tongue ever so slightly in and out as he kneads Louis' thighs and hips.

"Oh my god," Louis moans, fisting his own hair. He's rolling his hips down to meet Harry's tongue, cock bobbing obscenely between his legs. 

He wants it all, right now. He wants Harry to be inside of him already, wants to feel that stretch he felt the night he'd fingered himself, amplified. He almost wants it to hurt. 

The 'snick' of the lube cap is heard, and Harry spreads some of the liquid over his fingers while he eats Louis out expertly, delving his tongue in as deep as it'll go. He's making these noises that sound like he's never tasted anything so good in his life, which are mixed with dirty slurps and squelches. 

"Oh, kitten." Harry groans, slipping his index finger into Louis' hole. There isn't much resistance due to the tongue massage he's just had, but Harry has to wiggle and crook his digit a tiny bit before Louis is comfortable enough for him to tuck away a second. He scissors them almost carefully, whispering praises and encouragements.

"Gonna take my cock so well, Lou. Look at you. So gorgeous for me." 

It takes a good minute for Harry to find Louis' prostate but once he does, he's relentless. 

"There it is, huh baby? That's the spot, innit. Fuck yeah, you look so goddamn beautiful. Can't make you come like this though can I? Gotta make you come on my cock." 

"Yeah yeah yeah," Louis whines, tossing his head about. "Make me come on your big cock, Harry, I need it inside me." 

"Jesus." Harry removes his fingers and frantically seeks out the condoms, which he finds underneath the blanket. He tears one off the strip and rips it open with his teeth, wasting absolutely no time in rolling it down his cock. 

Harry slathers himself and Louis' hole up with lube and leans forward on his forearms, one on each side of Louis' head. He's panting, face and hair sweaty and concentrated.

"I love you, Louis." He says, flashing a breathless smile. His dimples are so deep. Louis reaches up to Harry's face and runs his index fingers over both of them, sighing.

"I might love you." He finally says weakly.

"That's all I need." Harry replies. He kisses Louis, smoothing his calloused hands up his sides and over his thighs. "Are you ready?" He adds thoughtfully, and Louis really isn't sure at all. He knows he wants this, to be as close as he possibly can and to share this sort of intimacy with Harry, but it's his first time. He's about to give away a piece of himself that he will never get back.

"I'm ready." I'm ready for you to put your cock in me but I'm not ready to pick up the pieces after you leave.

"You're so beautiful. You're so gorgeous." Harry spreads Louis' thighs a bit wider, reaching between them to grab his own cock at the base. He snubs the head of it against Louis' entrance teasingly, and Louis knows it's going to hurt then. It's burning him, already stretching him without being inside, but he can't bring himself to dislike the feeling.

When Harry finally pushes inside, it's as though his cock is a key that's just unlocked the answers to every question that Louis has ever had about himself. It fucking hurts, so badly that he nearly blacks out, but that only turns him on more.

"You're so tight, Christ. Feels so good." Harry hangs his head, obviously trying to control himself and not move. 

"Kiss me, please." Louis' voice sounds so small and distant, which is an accurate representation on how he feels. He hasn't opened his eyes yet, but feels warm lips over his own. He grounds himself by squeezing Harry's biceps, almost to the point of digging his nails in. They break apart and are out of breath, both from kissing and from the overwhelming sensation of sex.

"You can move." Louis says through gritted teeth. He tics for the first time since they've started, and it's only a facial twitch. 

"Louis I'm so happy I met you," Harry pushes in further until he's completely bottomed out, which causes more pain. Pleasure. "I'm so happy you're here with me." He grabs hold of Louis' hips and pulls all the way out, only to thrust back in powerfully. 

"Oh my fucking god! Oh," Louis arches his back, mouth opened wide in ecstasy. He's lost a bit of his erection during the searing stretch, but he's hardening up again quickly because Harry's cock is so obscenely huge, brushing against his prostate indirectly as he grinds in.

"You look so good," Harry picks up a rhythm, settling on his knees and dragging Louis up so his bum is hovering off of the blankets. He's snapping his hips against Louis' arse each time, groaning and grunting.

Louis is having sex. He's having sex with a gorgeous man that's saying he's in love. His eyes begin to sting for the umpteenth time tonight, welling up and spilling over.

He's not upset, he's immensely happy in this moment. But he knows that it isn't going to last. Harry is going to eventually get tired of trying to fix the broken, desperate boy, and he's going to walk away. But for now, he's going to pretend that's not the case and enjoy Harry's company while he's still here.

~*~

Louis opens his eyes slowly, blinking against the offending morning light. It brighter than it should be, is the first thing he notices, and he instantly glues his eyes closed again.

He inwardly groans at the fact that he's gotten up too late, and that he's going to have to hitch a ride with his step-father to school before he leaves for work. 

Louis sits up to swing his legs over the bed and onto the floor, eyes still shut. When his feet don't find the edge of the bed, he opens his eyes and snaps out of his haze.

"Hey there, sleepy." Harry. Harry is lying there, arms stretched behind his head lazily. He's got lovely, frizzy morning hair and his eyes are ringed with sleep.

Harry. The tent. His bum. 

"Shit." Louis laughs, rubbing his face. He covers his mouth, too, fearing morning breath. His arse is waking up too, it seems, because even the slightest movement causes a dull, not all that painful ache to rise up in it. He's pleasantly sore, pliant. 

"Come back here," Harry reaches out for him with grabby hands, pushing his bottom lip out in the cutest pout that Louis has ever seen.

"You've broken me." Louis accuses, snuggling his head back into the crook of Harry's armpit. 

"Sorry, Lou. You're irresistible. Couldn't help meself." He chuckles.

"I missed school," Louis traces nonsensical patterns across Harry's chest, outlining his swallow tattoos with the top of his finger. "My mum is probably having a fit."

"Probably." Harry agrees with a shrug, reaching down under the covers to scratch at his bare leg. Apparently sleeping in a tent means mosquitos zero in on you as a biting target.

"I should probably get back." Harry hugs him close, kissing his forehead. They're both sticky and disgusting and they smell like sweat, sex and must, but Louis really can't bring himself to think of a more perfect way to wake up.

"We'll grab a bite and get you home. Hope I haven't caused you too much trouble at yours." Harry frowns, eyebrows knitting together. He's genuinely concerned, and it's adorable. 

After they manage to scratch the crusted come off themselves as best they can, they pack everything up and haul it to the car. Louis has to waddle a bit, but once he gets used to the sting, it becomes easier. He has his blue mouthpiece tucked away in his hoodie pocket for safekeeping. 

There's this new, domestic air about the two of them, and Louis is in love with it. Harry is even handsier than before, sneaking kisses across the console as he drives and rubbing Louis' thigh possessively. 

They stop to eat at a hole in the wall gas pump, ordering crisped biscuits with cheese and two sausage rolls each. 

It's when they're halfway through their meal that Louis feels his first tic of the day coming on.

"I'm about to um." He whispers hurriedly to Harry, glancing around at the people sitting nearest them. "FUCK! Oh bloody wanker, fuck right off!" He screams, snapping his neck forward. A few people turn around in their booths, boring holes into him as he continues to tic.

He makes that high pitched "mmn!" In the back of his throat too many times to count, and everyone is definitely staring now. Harry just reaches across the table for his hand, stroking his thumb over the back of it while he eats. 

"Someone tell him to shut the fuck up!" A male voice yells from the back, and Harry cuts his eyes at his half-eaten biscuit. 

Louis is about to ask Harry to leave, to tell him that they could just eat on the way, but Harry clearly has other plans. A store employee is making his way over to the table, a worried expression on his face.

"Sirs I'm going to have to ask you to leave, you're disturbing the other-" 

"Excuse me?" Harry clears his throat. The man, who is short and squat with a shock of ginger hair and a scruffy beard, purses his lips at Harry. 

"Harry, please just let's go- Fuck!" Louis flaps his wrist and knocks his palm against his forehead repeatedly.

"No, Louis." He turns back to the guy, whose name-tag reads 'Ed' "You see, Ed, my boyfriend here has a neurological condition which causes him to have random muscle movements and vocal exploitation. Unless you want to be sued for in humane discrimination you'll walk right back behind that little counter of yours." He twirls his finger around and gives an overly exaggerated smile.

"Oh absolutely. I'm so sorry. Sir, I apologize. It's the customers, they're complaining and I didn't know-" 

"That's quite alright." Louis speaks up, and Harry looks on proudly. 

"The meal is on the house." Ed says, fervently apologizing. 

Louis feels like a toddler.

~*~ 

"You're permanently grounded. Permanently! I can't believe you'd just sneak off in the middle of the night without telling anyone, I am SO disappointed in you." His mum is pacing the floor in front of him, where he sits in a kitchen chair, arms folded.

"No phone, no tellie. No friends over. No... Nothing!" She's red-faced and angry, gesticulating everywhere. 

"Fuck! Fucking hello!" Louis taps his leg, and is utterly surprised when he feels a stinging slap grace his cheek. His mum had just hit him. Slapped him right in the face, and for what?

"You will not use that language in my home!" His mother snaps. She grabs both of his cheeks in one hand and stares at him angrily. He continues to tic, and she slaps his hand as well. "Why can't you just stop it! It can't be that bloody hard, can it! Just stop Louis! JUST STOP!" 

He's hysterical by then, blubbering like a baby. "Mummy you know I can't! I can't stop, I wish I could. Please." 

"Shut up. Just honestly, shut up! Take your bloody arse into your room and stay there. You'll come out to go to school, eat and piss. That's it! Do you understand? Do you understand me?" 

He's trying his hardest not to hit her. "Yes mum. Yes I understand." His overwhelming sadness and grief outweighs his anger as he trudges up the stairs, cradling his cheek. 

He's hopeless. He's disgusting. He's an abomination. He makes his mothers life hell. He doesn't deserve Harry. He doesn't deserve Zayn. He doesn't deserve to live, or love, be loved. 

He wishes he could just end his life. Die. Be done with it all. 

That's what he thinks to himself as he locks his door and makes a move for the letter opener on his desk.


	3. Chapter 3

In 1846, Edgar Allan Poe composed a letter, in which he’d sent to a newspaper responding to an accusation of plagiarism. Defending himself, he mentioned that he’d been long since suffering from effects of a mental illness, or in his own words, a ‘terrible evil’.

‘I became insane’ he stated in the letter ‘with long intervals of horrible sanity.’

Poe was content in his psychosis. He felt as though his insanity was normalcy, like he’d become his condition, and that it was shielding him from the awful truth of reality. He came up with the brilliant theory that the small portions of mental clarity he went through were ‘horrible’ and that he wanted to immediately shrink back into his own world.

Harry feels the exact same way about his relationship with Louis. Louis is his drug, his addiction, his disease. The times that he’s _without_ Louis are those he dreads the most. He wants to snatch Louis up and run away with him, live in a cozy little cottage away from the cold, prying eyes of the judgmental world.

Harry sighs as he lazes in his small day bed, one arm slung over his face. He cradles a smoldering joint between his fingers, ash falling onto his bare chest and crumbling off on the floor in the dark. Harry realizes that he is having his long interval of horrible sanity, right now, and he wants nothing more than another fix to keep himself sane.

The low whirring of his white box-fan is the only thing standing between his ears and the ringing, deafening silence that threatens to attack him, dare he switch it off, despite it being below freezing outside.

They had finally had _sex_ , and it was the most amazing thing that Harry had ever felt in his life. He’s never felt more connected to another person, more in sync, but now Louis is ignoring him and he doesn’t know how to react.

His whole entire life, he’s been the center of attention, for obvious reasons. He has easy going charm, a slow smile, and deep dimples. Girls and boys alike flock to him as moths to a flame, desperate for his attention. Some of them he would brush away, and some would be fleeting fancies that Harry would regret after it was all said and done.  Harry has only been in love once before, and even then it didn’t feel this way.

“Fucking shit.” He hisses when the cherry of the joint falls straight onto his nipple. He flops around in bed to try and get it off of him, and it burns a hole straight through his new comforter. 

“Do you hate me?” He crosses his arms and stares up at the ceiling, indignant.

“Do you literally seriously hate my guts, because my life sucks right now and it would be really cool if it _didn’t_.” Harry has never been one for traditional praying. It’s been this way ever since his mother started taking him to church when he was a lad. He’s always talked to God as if he was an extension of himself, a close friend.

“I’m really annoyed with you, to be perfectly bloody honest,” Harry flips on his bedside lamp and takes hold of his blankets, shaking them out violently. “I finally get something good going with Louis, with school, and now everything is falling apart. Is this some sort of trial? Is it a test?” He bounds over to his dresser and throws on a black t-shirt, scrubbing his hands over his face in frustration. The weed is still in effect, leaving a pleasant fuzzy tingling throughout his body. It doesn’t change his anger, though. He’s mad at God, right now.

“I’m leaving.” He states to nobody, picking up his dirty jeans from the floor. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but he needs to just get away from his cruddy flat and his cruddy life and this awful feeling that he’s having.

**~*~**

Harry doesn’t think he’ll make a very good doctor.

“Uncle Harry, come _on!_ It’s not that hard, you just put that thing in there!” A five year old Tiana looks up at him with appraising brown eyes, fuzzy little eyebrows scrunched up in a cute expression of concern. He’d ended up at Liam and Sophia’s flat after hours of pointless driving and two sketchy tacos from a less than credible stand in London.

“I’ll admit, I’m not much good at this game.” He tries again to insert the tiny metal forceps into the slot where the white plastic heart rests, only to receive a loud buzzing, indicating that he’s clearly failed.

“You suck.” He scrunches his nose up at her, and she sticks her tongue out.

Tiana is Liam and Sophia’s daughter, whom they had at very early ages. Sophia had fallen pregnant around the middle year of college when Liam was seventeen, and they both dropped away once she’d become too robust to waddle up the stairs to classes. Harry had to give them credit, though, because they always do everything in their power to give Tiana the best life she could possibly have.

Liam had landed a good paying job running electric, and the office for it is only a stone’s throw away from where Harry attends University at Kings College in London, so they always carpool when their schedules align.

He, Niall and Liam are all very close, and it’s been that way for as long as Harry can remember. He can’t think of a time before his two best friends.

“Harry,” Liam calls from the kitchen, and Tiana whines about braiding his hair.

“Gimme a minute, love bug.” He promises her, hoisting himself up off the floor. His pants are a bit too tight today, and he swears he can hear the fabric ripping as he bends up. Time for shopping, he guesses.

It’s not really easy living as a student, financially. He has a little job as a barista at Starbucks, but that only covers his rent and bills. If he’s lucky, he’ll have money enough to buy a few packs of Raman noodles by the time he’s paid what he needs to.

Harry had only gotten into Kings due to a generous scholarship from his College days. He’d had a choice to study law, but decided that going into the medical field would pay off in the future. He’s always been extremely domestic, wanting to settle down with a husband and a dog, have a few children. He wants to live comfortably, never wants his kids to go hungry or wonder why there aren’t presents under the tree during Christmas. He wants to spoil his significant other and be able to travel the world, and who the fuck has ever heard of a broke doctor? Well, pediatrician, but is there really a difference? He hopes not.

Harry rounds into the kitchen from the hallway, toes sinking into the plush blood red carpet with every step. He’s never understood why Sophia and Liam didn’t pull up the carpet in the kitchen and replace it with hardwood, but it’s sort of nice in a funky way, very familiar.

“You rang?” Liam is covered in flour, bright pink and white chevron print apron tied behind his back. He’s holding his phone in his hands, tapping away at the screen with the tip of his pinkie finger.

“Zayn says to call him.” He says it nonchalantly, eyes trained on the screen.

“What?” Harry runs his hands through his curls, shaking them out.

“Call Zayn, Harry. I don’t know what he wants, just do it. He’s been texting me to tell you for like an hour.” Harry already has his phone out, eyebrows knitted together. Zayn is best friends with Louis, which means this must be about him.

Harry and Zayn had always been buddy with one another, but they were never the calling type. They’d always just exchanged a few words over text or Facebook messages and meet up for drinks or go to a party together.

He puts the phone to his ear and mouths a thank you to Liam, strolling out of the back door from the kitchen. He sits on a patio chair on the balcony and kicks his feet up on the card table there, listening to the ringing on the other end. What if Louis asked Zayn to break it to him gently or something?

The receiver picks up, and there’s a shuffling around before a voice breaks the silence. “ _Harry_?” It’s Louis’ raspy, sexy Yorkshire accent. God, he’s fucking gorgeous. Even over the phone, he’s so pretty.

“Louis, hey. Uh, how are you?” Harry sits up in his chair, gripping the edge of the table.

“ _Hey, I’ve um… I’ve been grounded, sort of. My mum isn’t letting me out and she took my phone. I’m at Zayn’s.”_ Grounded, right. _Grounded,_ because Louis is still a teenager and still lives at home with his parents.

“Don’t sweat about it, love. Think I can swing stealing you for a few hours or do you need to get home?” Harry nibbles on his thumbnail nervously, willing the stupid butterflies in his stomach to bugger off.

There’s a hushed whispering on Louis’ end that Harry can’t make out, then an apprehensive whine.

 _“I probably shouldn’t,”_ He begins “ _Pick me up at Zayn’s in like twenty minutes. We can’t stay out too late though, I have a curfew now. I told my mum I was studying with Zayn and she didn’t even want to let me come but I begged her and now you’re taking me-“_

“Louis- Louis, hey,”

_“She’s gone sort of bonkers now and I don’t really know why and she kind of-“_

“Louis!” Harry laughs, and the boy falls silent with an involuntary yell. Harry has to admit, he finds Louis’ tics so endearing that it makes him swell up with adoration and love every time it happens.

“I’ll be by in a while, Love. We’ll go out or something.” He hears Louis make a pained noise before he obviously reluctantly agrees with a small “ _mhm_.”

“You know what,” Harry rethinks, mulling over the events of the morning after, when they’d stopped for breakfast. Louis was so embarrassed, so teary eyed on the way home. Harry doesn’t want to do that to him again. “Niall is gracious, and he’s given me his Netflix password. What’s say we pick up some Indian on the way to mine and snuggle on the couch. We can be little sofa piggies. Just you and me.”

Louis breaths out a sigh of relief and agrees, promising to be ready by the time Harry arrives. When they say their respective goodbyes and hang up, it’s all Harry can do not to dance about the balcony. His impromptu cabbage patch is interrupted by a small voice from the patio sliding door.

“Uncle Harry can I braid you now?”

 

**~*~**

Since he was a young boy in Cheshire, Harry’s parents have always told him he needs to work for what he wants.

When he was six, Harry asked for a bike as a Christmas present, and his mum told him that if he could ride his cousins’ without training wheels for at least thirty seconds, she’d discuss it with Santa. Naturally, being only six, Harry wasn’t able, which resulted in no new bike for Christmas, two scraped knees, and a very sad green eyed boy.

When Harry hit thirteen, he was prompted by his step-father Robin to get a job to help out, to “stop being so lazy.” He applied at a local bakery and began turning buns and filling pastries for 5£ an hour.

It wasn’t that he ever went without anything, no. His parents were exponentially wealthy. They lived in the largest estate in the tiny town of Cheshire, sitting behind towering pearly white gates. His mother and step-father were the kind that hosted country club meetings and golf tournaments with their colleagues in the enormous backyard.

They were tough-love, no bullshit, emotionless people who believed firmly in spankings and earning your own worth. They were devout Catholics that visited the confession booth twice a week, dragging Harry and his older sister Gemma along to every service and communion that was readily available. Gemma turned out to undoubtedly be the favorite, with her prim and proper manners and pressed frilly dresses. She followed along in their mother’s footsteps, basically a shadow.

Harry, however, was quite the opposite. The money he earned working at the bakery would supply him Marilyn Manson CD’s and ripped jeans that he’d keep stashed away in his closet. He was being oppressed to the point of no return, smothered by his parents overbearing rule and the nagging evils in the back of his mind.

Harry had always been taught that being gay was wrong, a sin. He tried his hardest to ignore the random erections during gym or the fact that he’d stolen Robins’ muscle magazine with David Beckham on the cover to look at guiltily when he masturbated, but it was very difficult for him.

When Harry was seventeen, he met a boy named Nick Grimshaw. Nick was a transfer student from another town over, sporting flamboyant speech and carefully quiffed hair. He swung his arse a bit too much and used extravagant gestures, cocking his leg out to reveal an hourglass figure that Harry fantasized about for weeks.

It was when Nick had ambled over to Harry one day before class, catching him alone in the bathrooms. Harry was washing his hands hurriedly as Nick unzipped his trousers to piss in the urinal.

Just as Harry had grabbed a paper towel and was rushing out of the door, he heard a soft, raspy moan come from behind him. There was no mistaking the noise as he flipped round slowly and saw Nick working his dainty hand over the head of his uncircumcised cock. And that was literally all it took.

They became a fling right off the bat, secret hand jobs and blowies in between classes, heated make out sessions behind the buses or on the other side of a locker.

Nick tasted like summer and cinnamon, felt like everything wonderful. Harry spent hours learning the curves of his body and licking him from the inside out. They would alternate between staying at one another’s homes for the night, keeping as quiet as they could to avoid detection by either of their parents. Harry was in unequivocal, undeniable, sickly sweet love.

Until it all came crashing down.

They had just finished making love, spunk still dewy across both of their chests as they lie on Harry’s bed. Their legs were tangled together, and Harry was running his fingers through the knots of Nick’s hair, smoothing them out and pressing light kisses to his forehead.

“Nick?” Harry hummed, cracking his eyelids to look upon the rounded cheeks of the boy next to him, to take in his warm face and dimpled chin.

“Yeah?” He replied lazily, smiling up at Harry.

“I love y-“

“What in the bloody hell is this!?”  A booming, angered voice thundered from the doorway. The overhead light was flipped on as they scrambled to cover themselves. When Harry’s eyes adjusted to the light, his step-father was steaming, red faced and clearly ready to rip them both apart.

“We were just-“ Harry cut himself off, fish-mouthing to find an explanation. He knew he’d been discovered, though. There was no saving himself, no sweet talking himself out of this situation.

Sure enough, Robin had been extremely disgusted. He called Nicks parents first, made him sit in the den to wait for them while Harry cried his eyes out upstairs.

“I’ll give you until the end of high school,” Robin told him through gritted teeth “To get you and your faggot self out of me fucking house and into another.” He balled his fist up and clenched his jaw, a purple vein prominent on his temple.

“If you aren’t out by then, consider yourself arrested or thrown on the streets.”

So, Harry had to rough it through a good six months at home, where his own parents completely ignored him. The only one in the house that would speak to him was Gemma, and she wasn’t much company.

With much convincing over time, Niall had been able to talk his mother Maura down to letting Harry stay with them until he had money enough for a place before university, and that was _good_. He was eighteen by then, and had already received his scholarship.

Fast-forward six years later and here Harry is, driving down the main highway with cornrowed braids that go down as pigtails and a yellow daisy stuck behind his ear.

He stops by the local Punjabi to pick up a cashew nut korma for himself and some lamb curry for Louis, shelling out his last few quid. The man that hands him his food eyes him questioningly, and he just gives a wide smile.

He’s come to accept all forms of criticism and convert them into compliments, at all costs. Ever since he’d officially come out of the closet, Harry has had to deal with many rude people. At first he would let it get to him, would sit up in he and Niall’s room and cry himself to sleep over who called him a faggot. One day, though, Harry decided that he’d had enough. He went to school with a smile on his face and was friendly to everyone that day, even scummy Jonathan Pickets who tripped him during lunch and spat in his cranberry juice once.

He found that being nice drives people crazy, and he really, _really_ liked the ability to drive people crazy.

**~*~**

“Okay so what you’re telling me is,” Louis says around a mouthful of rice and lamb, pointing his white plastic fork to the screen of Harry’s tv as he chews “you _don’t_ think you look like Dr. Frank n Furter?”

They’re cuddled close on the narrow, lime green couch in Harry’s flat, Louis is pressed tight against Harry’s front, leaning up on one elbow as they watch the movie and eat.

“I don’t see the resemblance.” He says with a shrug and a smirk, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s put a bit too much hot sauce in his korma, because the sides of his lips feel like they’re burning off.

“Come _on,_ Harold. Let me do your eyebrows and lipstick, and you’re the spitting image. We’ll get you in some panties and lace, too.” He cackles, and then gasps like he’s had a sudden revelation. “You’re going to be a bloody doctor! Oh, Harry, holy shit you’ve got to let me call you Doctor Frank.”

They fight over that for a good while until the argument shifts onto The Little Mermaid and how Ursula was in the right for taking Ariel’s voice.

“You’re a savage.” Louis states. “You cannot actually tell me that you think the hag deserved any sort of happiness, I mean-“

“Oi, look here, it was a good thing that she took Ariel’s voice. She wanted to find true love, yeah? So, without her voice, she couldn’t communicate to Prince Eric and he had to, like, take her exactly how she was. Even though she couldn’t speak, he loved her because of the person that she was. Without that, we don’t know what the hell would have happened. So, the sea witch was an intregal part in the story of The Little Mermaid. Owned.” Louis looked as though he wanted to say something, but snapped his mouth shut and cut his eyes.

“What are you looking so cute for?” Harry inquires, booping the boys’ nose.

“Nothing, it’s just. Good to know that some people can take others for who they truly are, despite their flaws. Restores your faith back in humanity and all that, you know.”

Harry considers this for a good moment, and then breaks out into a laugh. “I love how we sit here speaking in code through way of Disney movies. Come here, you.” He pulls Louis in by his waist, setting both of their tins on the ground and hoisting him closer.

“I love you just the way _you_ are.” He whispers against Louis’ lips, nipping his bottom one.

There is a reverent silence before Louis whispers back.

“I can’t take you seriously in those braids, Luda.”

Harry only laughs and captures Louis’ lips with his own, blindly reaching for the remote to switch off the television.

“I’ve got booze, if you want.”

**~*~**

They might have gotten carried away.

Scratch that, they definitely, certainly got carried away.

Harry awakes on the floor of his bedroom with a violent start, spitting out feathers of a goose-down pillow that lies busted open near by. He’s naked, save for his black and glitter boa that he’d gotten in New Orleans on Mardi Gras one year for his last year trip to America. His stomach and thighs are sticky and gross, and he has the biggest headache of his life.

“Louis?” He croaks out, reaching up to card his fingers through his hair. He finds it still in those two fraying braids, so he works on sliding the elastics off and shaking it free.

The other boy is nowhere to be found in his bedroom, and assuming from the light outside, Harry figures that he’d probably taken a cab home or had called Zayn to avoid being reprimanded by his parents.

The night before comes to him in flashes, the vodka shots, the dirty dancing to Genuwine’s ‘Pony’, the naked hide-and-go-seek.

Harry lies back down on the floor and touches his fingertip to his lips, recalling the sweet taste of Louis, and how he’d moaned like a pro for Harry to go deeper with his tongue. He remembers holding Louis’ tiny arms behind his back as he took him from behind. He remembers… scabs. Harry frowns and thinks harder, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

_“Oh fuck, Harry, please, shit.” Louis grinds himself back onto Harry’s cock, arching his back in a way that almost resembles a feline. Harry is pounding into him with relentless fury, fueled by his desire and also vodka. His balls are slapping against Louis’ thighs with every thrust, sweat dripping from his nose. He runs his hands up Louis’ body and stops at his arms, twisting them around to pin them behind his back. He notices the zig-zagged red and maroon lines there, runs his fingers over them in confusion as he continues his rapid thrusting._

_“Louis what are you,” He pants out, vision blurred by the alcohol and what he thinks is tears. “What did you do to yourself.”_

Harry remembers fully, now. He remembers Louis yelling at him to “Stop! Fucking stop, pull out! Get off of me!” He remembers Louis storming out of his flat in tears and he also remembers not being able to do a thing to stop him in his drunken stupor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi to me on tumblr!! Im Tomlin-fact-straight.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm Tomlin-fact-straight on tumblr! Please come say hi. I'll harass u if u aren't on anon :)


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